Amative
by Daanana
Summary: Even though he loved her, he knew he wasn't worthy, so he left. But he could never erase the lingering imprints she left on his heart. Set approximately 10 months after the events of 2x10.
1. Prologue

**_amative_** _(not comparable)_ _Pertaining to love; amorous._

* * *

 **Prologue**.

'We're almost there,' he said.

A shrug of the shoulder was her only response. Eleanor sat with her back towards him, staring out of the window of the limo. Their unexpected closeness in the stadium, her hand reaching for his, his arm tightly around her waist, had come to a sudden death as they entered the back of the limo and she had positioned herself as far away from him as was possible in the confined space. He let her. She had been through enough. He had put her through enough. He could deal with this.

The inside of his hand still burned with the lingering imprint of her fingers. It burned almost as much as his heart did. When he had seen her hand tremble, he had known he couldn't let her go through with it. He had promised to be there for her and he would be. She could be weak sometimes. He would carry her burden. He had taken her arm, softly pulling her away. Then he had pushed the button himself. Her reaching for his hand was all the proof he needed to know he had made the right choice.

'James is waiting for us at the palace,' he continued. 'Once we're through the gates, I need you to keep your head down. He will escort you to your room together with Baker.'

Her breathing hitched. He almost missed it.

'Liam is already inside the palace, so is the Queen Mother. Once you're secure, the palace will go on lockdown. You'll be safe then.'

Even in the reflection of the window, he could see the lingering question clearly on her face. Could see her wondering where he would be in all of this. She said nothing though. So neither did he.

There was hardly a crowd at the palace gates, but Jasper knew that in less than an hour, most likely sooner than later, it would be crawling with reporters, paparazzi and other curious, annoyingly so, citizens. In his experience, Royal scandals and drama always attracted the most vultures.

'It's relatively calm still.'

He wasn't a man of many words, but the silence made them tumble out of his mouth. The palace was near, so near, and there was so much he had yet to tell her. Show her. Things that only he could make her feel, if only she gave him the chance.

'I want you to know I'm sorry.'

Her fingers still burned in his hand.

'I know I said it before, but you have no idea how goddamn sorry I am.'

The last words she had spoken to him in her bedroom ran through his mind.

'I need you to know that you can rely on me.'

He did not want to leave.

'I might've come to rob you, but that isn't the reason I stayed.'

He wasn't sure he _could_ leave. Not now, not ever.

'I... I don't know how to say this.'

She turned her head slightly towards him, just the littlest bit, but he noticed and took a deep breath.

'I don't know how to tell you, but you need to know…'

He fell silent, swallowed slowly and deeply.

'Your mother, Samantha.. Mandy. The diamond. It wasn't worth it. Worth this. Just something to pass time. I mean, it meant nothing. Means nothing- '

'Shut up.' She had stiffened, cut him off.

Cut him severely with those two words. She turned back to the window, wrapping her arms around herself again. _Something to pass time._ He could practically hear her think it.

'Shut up and just leave already.'

It was whispered but Jasper heard it as clearly as when she'd been yelling. He started to reach for her, but thought better of it. Pretended he had meant to take off his glasses.

His hand burned but not as much as his heart.

They had reached the palace grounds, were turning towards the broad stairs and he could see James standing on the landing, waiting.

He made to open the door, hesitated.

'Eleanor…'

Sighed.

'Eleanor, you know I didn't mean it that way.'

She stubbornly stared out of the window.

'I'll make it all up to you, every single damn thing. I'll fix it all. But you _need_ to let me stay.'

He ran a hand through his hair and his voice dropped to a strained whisper.

'Eleanor, please. Let me stay.'

'I don't need you anymore, Jasper,' she said, deliberately slow. 'I don't want anything you have to offer. There's nothing to fix or make up for. I just want you gone.

'Please.'

He was never able to deny her anything.

The silence was heavy. He didn't dare breathe for fear of breaking it. His hand inched towards her, slowly. Were it any other moment he would've laughed at his own trembling. He almost touched her. Almost, but not really. A knock on the window made him drop his hand. The relieved breath she released did not escape him.

This time he did open the door without any hesitation. He held out his hand for her to take, but she ignored it. She looked up at him for only a second, too fast for him to read anything in her eyes, but she didn't have to. The cold look on her face spoke all the words she did not say. He clenched his jaw, cursed himself for reasons he had yet to accept, but then he felt a hand on his shoulder.

'Frost.'

He acknowledged the shorter bodyguard with a nod and stepped aside. Stood beside the car as she accepted James' help. Watched as the older man wrapped an arm around her – _it should've been him_ – and waited for them to ascend the stairs leading to the great oaken palace doors. He saw Hagrid – _when had he started to refer to him as Hagrid as well?_ – open the doors from the inside, the mountain of a man's eyes immediately searching him out. They nodded at each other, understanding passing and a silent promise being made that the man would keep the Princess safe.

He stared at the doors long after they had been closed again. Was still staring when the curious crowds finally descended upon the palace gates. Kept staring as he recalled the past months. The wine cellar and their first contact. Their bodies entwined. The pushing and the pulling.

Oh, how his hand burned.

The stadium. The feeling of her fingers wrapped around his hand. His arm, protectively around her waist. Those fleeting moments when he stupidly, almost despairingly, had hoped she might let him stay. He knew he had hurt her, had hurt himself by doing so, but from all this pain something beautiful had been born. And he could not deny, would never deny, not to himself, how much he loved her. He fucking loved her so much.

His hand still burned.

He loved her enough to let her go. To give her the opportunity to be with a good man. One who wouldn't cheat on her with her mother, a man who wouldn't try to rob her. A man who was worthy.

He stood staring at the doors, blinked once, twice. He hadn't realised his breathing had turned raggedly. His hands had curled into fists, nails digging into the flesh of his palms. He wondered if this was what love felt like. Stared and blinked again.

Then he slid his glasses back in their place and left.

He did not look back.


	2. 1 - A bloody eternity

_So, thank you to those who reviewed. It is much appreciated. This first chapter is short, but I'm starting out slowly, just establishing where Jasper is in his life. No Eleanor in this chapter yet. The chapters will gradually get longer. Also, I apologize in advance for any mistakes: English is not my native language, so bear with me, please._

* * *

 **Chapter 1. A bloody eternity.**

It had been nine months and twenty-seven days. Not even a year yet a bloody eternity. An eternity since King Simon had died, since his killer, Ted Pryce, had been brutally lynched by a mob in the Wembley stadium, an eternity since Prince Robert had returned to the living _and_ his rightful throne after been falsely presumed dead.

He'd gotten a new apartment, just off of Shoreditch High Street. It housed only the bare essentials and the odd flower here and there, some pictures - not placed there by him - but nothing too fancy. He had never needed much and that wasn't about to change. He had a new job which in all honesty was beneath him, but it paid the bills. His colleagues weren't too bad either. He might even like them. Not that he wanted them to know.

He had moved on, because it _had_ been an eternity. A fucking eternity, yet it felt like only yesterday.

Only yesterday since he had left.

And now _this_.

He slid the envelope over the table, towards the girl sitting across from him. The café was packed, despite the early hour, but they had managed to secure a spot next to the window. Her coffee – _'black, please_ – and his – ' _add a shot of whisky, Scotch'_ – stood still steaming in between them. His mug was already considerably emptier than hers though.

She arched an eyebrow, looking scathingly at his drink.

'A bit early, isn't it,' she said, fingering the golden envelope.

'Came last week,' he muttered, ignoring her. 'Delivered by a fucking monkey in a suit.'

He scoffed, recalling the young boy ringing his doorbell several days before. He hadn't been expecting any visitors, had stopped expecting _her_ to show up a long time ago, and had at first ignored the ringing as he always did when someone came at his door unannounced. This time, though, the ringing was insistent. When he eventually pulled open the door with more force than was necessary, he was greeted with the sight of a rosy-cheeked, good-looking lad dressed like a nineteenth century house steward, complete with a topper. It had taken everything to not slam the door back shut in his face.

'What?' he had grunted. The lad had just smiled, showing perfectly aligned, white teeth and dimples that made him look even more obnoxiously handsome, and had held out an envelope to him. It had sparkled in the morning sun, causing him to eye it disdainfully.

'Jasper Frost?' the boy had inquired, to which he had reluctantly nodded.

'Good,' the boy had said. 'Prince Liam wanted me to personally deliver this to you.'

He had bowed – _bowed!_ – and had wished Jasper a pleasant day. He had then proceeded to turn on his heels, leaving Jasper without any time to respond. Jasper chose to slam the door as a reply, regretting he hadn't done so sooner, and had walked back into the house.

It had taken him three days to open the envelope and another two before he read the accompanying letter. The contents of the first card had been simple: an invitation to the upcoming birthday party of Their Royal Highnesses Prince and Princess Liam and Eleanor Henstridge. He had been ready to toss it in the trash. Had actually done so. But then he had read the letter.

 _Dear Jasper_ , it had read and for a moment he had let himself believe it came from her.

 _It has been too long, my friend. I never had the chance to properly thank you and so much time has gone by, that I do not know if I can find the right words. But do know this. I love you dearly and miss you. You have always and will always be important to me and I hope so am I to you._

 _Come to my birthday. Let us catch up. The palace has settled down. All has fallen into its rightful place. I need your advice on girls, introduce you to Robbie, perhaps practice my American accent some more – even though we all know mine is better than yours. So much has happened that I wish to share with you._

 _Come to the party._

 _Liam_

 _P.S. You could bring a friend if you don't want to come by yourself_

At first he had scoffed at the incredible effeminacy of the letter. But then again, this was Liam. No matter how he might have worded it, Jasper knew the man meant every word of it. He had decided to not go – he wouldn't, truly, he didn't want to go, but he might text Liam, or send him a letter back, he'd bet the Prince would like that far more than was expected from a twenty-two-year-old – but after re-reading the letter once, twice, maybe even thrice though he would never admit to that, doubt had started to set in. He had no clue what to do.

Liam had been his friend. Liam _was_ his friend. Perhaps even his only friend.

Of course he had his colleagues. They were nosy, entirely too curious and meddlesome, but they were also fun, perhaps slightly bacchanal. They didn't care when Jasper just drank impassively during their many nights out. They chattered and danced anyway, sometimes managing to pull him down to the dance floor as well. Other times they shared with him their own versions of his previous life. He hadn't been forthcoming about where he had been working before, what he had been doing, _who_ he'd been doing, so they loved to speculate. It was annoying and tiresome, but also somewhat entertaining. The most far-fetched shit they'd come up with was when Jonathan, only two months after Jasper had been initiated into their little merry band of sponges, had exclaimed Jasper must've been the illicit lover of some President's daughter, who, after he cheated on her with her mother, had kicked him out of her bed and country. He had choked on his drink then and had proceeded to get them shamefully drunk, so none of them would've remembered that moment the day after. It had taken a while, though, to calm his racing heart.

They were a close-knit bunch, always wanting to hang out – _and drink, they always wanted to drink_ – before and after their shifts, Jasper suspected at times even during, but though he joined them more often than had been his original plan, it was nothing compared to the bond he'd had with Liam.

Rummaging through the trash cans outside hadn't been his finest moment, but the relief he had felt after finding the invitation again had been more than worth it. Not that he had decided to go, not that he wanted to, but at least he'd be considering it.

'How the hell did he find me anyway?' he grumbled. He looked accusatory at the girl, but she held up her hands in an unnecessary gesture of innocence. He knew she had nothing to do with this. She didn't even know the Prince, none of them did. Had never bothered to tell them. It was none of their business. But out of all of them, she knew the most. Knew him best. Knew him maybe even good enough to convince him to go. He did not want to go, he kept telling himself, but every time he repeated the mantra it sounded more like a lie.

'God damn it, Frost,' she grinned. 'I knew you had a secret you weren't telling me.'

She took a sip from her coffee, hissed when it burned her, and sent another scathing look Jasper's way. His mug was empty.

He snorted lightly. 'I have many secrets, Poppy. And almost all of them I do not wish to tell you.'

And almost all of them she somehow knew. Just not _this_. Not about _her_ nor Liam.

'Touched,' she replied, a hand on her heart. 'Really touching. But back to this letter slash invitation. Is this a secret hint that you want me to come with?'

'You think I should go?' he asked.

'The more important question,' she replied, 'is why you seem to not want to go.'

She slid the envelope back to him and leaned back in her chair. As she crossed her legs, she accidentally – or purposefully, with Poppy he could never be too sure – brushed against his. She smirked; he arched an eyebrow.

'Really, Frost,' she said. 'If I got an invitation to attend His Royal Highness Prince Liam's birthday I'd be out purchasing all of fucking Regent and Oxford Street to make sure I had something to wear and no one else was wearing the same.'

'I doubt anyone at that party gets their clothes from neither Oxford nor Regent.'

She waved him off.

'Shut it, you.'

She playfully slapped him in the face with the letter, having grabbed it again before he could put it away, and was surprised when he showed no response. He simply watched her stoically, one eyebrow arched. She grinned and stuck out her tongue.

' _This_ ,' she continued. 'This is practically a love letter from said Royal Highness that should have gotten your penis erect for at least twelve days. I know my fanny is sopping and it wasn't even addressed to me.'

Amusement briefly flickered in his eyes, but the expression on his face stayed as stony as ever. He was used to it by now. She had an entirely unhealthy crush on the Prince. She had confessed this to him, one of those rare mornings they had spent in bed together, after he had told her he used to work at the palace. Another secret she had somehow pried from him, without even having to try. She had that effect on him.

' _I love you dearly and miss you_ ,' she gushed. ' _You will always be important to me_.'

Again, she waved the letter at him, this time missing his face.

'He _misses_ you,' she cried. 'Wants to _share_ stuff with you. The bloody prince of England. My future husband!'

She looked at him, suddenly suspicious and he's already afraid of what she could possibly be thinking.

'Did you have an _affair_ with the Prince while you worked at the palace?'

 _This_ is exactly why he keeps secrets. Why he doesn't share every goddamn aspect of his life with the people he knows. The bloody stupidity of it all. She had the audacity to leer at him, whether with jealousy or contempt, after he did not reply. If only she knew.

He wasn't even sure _their thing_ could have been called an affair. He had named it a relationship, but she hadn't agreed. He had wanted to stay, but she hadn't agreed. There hadn't been an awful lot they had agreed upon.

He snatched the letter back from Poppy and stuffed it in his jacket pocket. When he glared at her, she simply shrugged.

'Well, you _are_ an exceptionally good lover, so it would only be logical for you to have practised on both sexes. The slightly sullen, incredibly stubborn, mysterious guy thing works for me, so I'm guessing it will work on guys as well. You know, Fifty Shades of Frost.'

She winked at him cheekily, blowing him a kiss, and for a minute he was transported back to another time, at this same café, some months ago. She had been sitting in his lap, studiously ignoring their other colleagues nearby as she purred into his ear, one hand in his hair and the other rubbing his leg obscenely close to his crotch. The feeling of her warm breath in his neck, her long hair in his face and her hands…

Those hands.

He hadn't been able to stop himself, hadn't cared enough to try. The alcohol had muddled his senses and it had been a month since he had left. A fucking month. He had grabbed her by the sides, pulling her deeper into his lap, while grinding his hips into hers. His lips had found hers and their first kiss had been searing and needy and overbearing and somehow seedy and suddenly all he had wanted to do was fuck her senseless over the table top. They had waved a quick goodbye to their colleagues, or maybe not, they both couldn't remember, and had ended up on her kitchen counter. The bed had seemed too far away.

The sex had been good and if he had closed his eyes he could've almost pretended she was the Pr–

No. He wasn't going there.

'Poppy,' he sighed. 'Forget I showed you.'

He made to get up, but her hand shot out and landed on his. The sudden contact startled him. He didn't like people touching him. Never had. Might have had something to do with his step-dad. Easy to blame it all on the old man. His usual way of physical contact had been blows and kicks, preferably to Jasper's head. He rolled his eyes, mostly at the distant memory, but Poppy retracted her hand anyway and mumbled a quick apology, before urging him to sit down again.

'All right, Frost,' she said. 'Stop being so frosty and tell me what this is all about.'

Even she had to grimace at her wordplay but she seemed genuinely curious. She watched him patiently, eyes soft, body leaning slightly towards him. He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. She was the closest thing he had to a friend outside of the palace and for a moment he wanted to tell her all his secrets. Wanted to tell her about Samantha and the Koh-i-Noor. The Queen Mother and their betrayal. The blackmail, the Olympic swimmer, Beck. Every single mistake he had made, but mostly, in that fleeting moment, vanishing almost as quickly as it had come upon him, he wanted to tell Poppy about _her._

But then he looked at her, staring at him from the other side of the table, and it was ephemeral. He was almost surprised. Almost, but not really.

Because the long, brown hair falling into her face... The dark eyeliner – not as heavy as hers, but still there. The willowy build and slightly upturned nose. They were so similar. So fucking similar. There was no one like _her_ , there couldn't be, not to him at least. But this girl he had been fucking for the past months and _her_. How could he not have noticed?

'You look so much like her,' he whispered in a sudden spell of vulnerability. It lasted only a second and by the time his words had registered, he had already gotten up, almost knocking down his chair, leaving Poppy and rushing outside to smoke a cigarette. She craved one herself, but knew better than to follow him, not when he was like this. Instead she ordered another coffee. Extra strong with a shot of whisky, Scotch. Never mind that she hadn't finished her first coffee yet.

She watched him through the window. He was leaning against the low fence of the terrace outside, took a long and deep drag from his fag as she regarded him. One hand rested against his face, thumb rubbing his temple soothingly. She fleetingly wondered whether he and the Prince _had_ been lovers, but had to laugh almost as soon as the thought crossed her mind. From the way he had been fucking her, she couldn't imagine Jasper with a guy. And she certainly didn't want to ruin any future Royal marriage dreams by imagining him with her Prince. Still, it was completely out of character for him to show this much dejection. The man consistently proved to have the emotional range of a rock, and perhaps that was even pushing it. His usual gloom almost seemed cheerful compared to this.

She took a thoughtful sip of her coffee. She winced, it was still hot, and focused back on Jasper. He looked back at her now, holding up his cigarette and beckoning her to join him. She signalled the waiter that she was going out as well. When he gave her a thumbs up, she slipped out of the chair, shrugging into Jasper's coat, and went outside.

He watched her walk towards him, one corner of his mouth slightly upturned, making him resemble a lost, apologetic puppy. She patted him on the head, rubbing her cheek against his shoulder.

'You know,' she began. 'I'm not even going to ask what got your panties in a twist. All I'm saying is 'yes, Frost, I would love to go to the Prince's birthday party with you'. I do, however, expect you to buy me a new dress because I have absolutely nothing to wear.'

He looked down at her, grateful, but said nothing.

The _fucking_ similarities.

'Nothing from Oxford or Regent,' she added quickly. 'I'm not a pleb.'

He had been telling himself all week he wasn't going. He hadn't set foot in the palace for too long. But this wasn't the palace. This was a night club. And this wasn't her. This was _Liam_.

Liam had been his friend, _was_ his friend. He owed it to him to show up to his birthday party. _Their_ birthday party. Besides, so many things had happened in the meantime. He was over it. She was over it. Nine fucking months and twenty-seven days.

It had been an eternity. Not yesterday, but an eternity.

A bloody eternity.


	3. 2 - We do look alike

_I'm not really satisfied with the way this came out, but I've been sitting on it a couple of days and it only seems to be getting worse, so I decided to just put it out there and continue on with the rest of the story. Will probably come back a few chapters down the road to fix this. Sexual tension and such really isn't my forte. Upped the rating to M, though. Better safe than sorry._

 _And I realise we know nothing -_ nothing _\- about Eleanor at the moment, but don't worry. We'll get a glimpse in her head soon enough._

 _Thank all of you for reviewing. It's, for lack of a better word, overwhelming. Heart-warming. Thank you all!_

* * *

 **Chapter 2. We do look alike.**

The club was packed. He hadn't expected otherwise. Large, crystal chandeliers adorned the high ceilings and the long bar in the back was lit up. The air was thick and the bass deep, and it smelled like sweat, smoke and sex. It was almost palpable and Jasper inhaled deeply.

He had long lost Poppy in the throng of people. The silky black dress with the plunging back he had bought her had earned her the attention of several people. They weren't deterred by Jasper's stony gaze, had ignored the possessive hand on her hip and eventually he had kissed her on the cheek and let her wander off with a lass. It seemed the safest choice; what imbecility could two girls possibly come up with? He had seen her and her new friend pop up here and there, had spoken with them for a while too, but the girls had decided terrorising the dancefloor was much more entertaining than his company, so they had flitted away again. He had sternly warned her not to do anything stupid, but he was pretty sure that at the moment she was doing exactly that.

As long as she had fun.

He sat, scanning the crowd, nursing a Scotch. His third for the night. He started to regret sending back the limo Liam had sent for them. He would have to take it down a notch if he wanted to be able to drive Poppy and himself home safely. Not that he had any plans to become completely shitfaced tonight. He wouldn't mind if he were, though.

He took another sip, letting the taste linger in his mouth, once again letting his gaze wander. Writhing bodies on the dancefloor, one lone lunatic jumping around – Holden, without a doubt – and a faceless couple kissing in the corner. A few people had glowing sticks. Some wore them as jewellery while others had simply stuck them in their hair, sticking out in various odd angles.

Jasper turned to see if Poppy was somewhere nearby, but before he had a chance to do so a weight crashed into him, almost knocking him over. A body hung around his neck and was clapping him on the back.

'You came,' Liam exclaimed. 'I can't believe it. You came!'

The Prince had a dead grip on him and after a few uncomfortable seconds Jasper reluctantly returned the embrace. Relaxed into it. He tightened his arms around the Prince, held him tighter than was perhaps proper and for the first time in months he realised how much he had missed the boy. She had been the one to ask him to leave, but it wasn't only her he had had to leave behind.

'Man,' Liam's voice was muffled, his face buried somewhere in the collar of Jasper's dress shirt. 'We're so pathetic.'

Jasper snorted at that and they hastily pulled apart, a light blush on Liam's face. Jasper looked as unfazed as ever.

'You look good,' Jasper said, giving Liam the once-over. 'Congratulations, mate.'

They clasped hands, Liam grinning like a madman.

'Come, come,' he said, 'Willow is somewhere around and I'm pretty sure Robbie and Len were right behind me. You should see Willow, Jasper. She's wearing this red piece. I swear, that woman will be the death of me…'

The Prince was chattering, much to Jasper's amusement. Gods, he had missed this.

'…has been driving me completely nuts. She wants a Royal wedding and she'll be damned if it's not mine. Robbie's bloody lucky he just got back from the death, otherwise she'd be on his case. And Eleanor…'

Liam trailed off, looking over his shoulder, an even broader smile lighting up his features. Jasper followed his line of sight.

'Len, look! Look who's here.'

And then he saw her, standing just a couple of feet away. She looked gorgeous, and he hadn't expected it any other way. Her hair was straight and longer than he remembered, and he could almost feel the silkily softness of it. The dress, if it could be called that, clung tightly to her body and he could practically feel his dick twitching in his pants. She was fucking gorgeous and she used to be all his. Used to be his.

He stared at her, he knew he was, but he couldn't tear his eyes away.

Her eyes were wide, her mouth slightly open. She rocked on her heels, something gravitational, some pull, and he almost hoped she would run to him, jump him, hold him, kiss him, and tell him she loved him. But he caught himself, warned himself not to go there, not to let his thoughts stray that way, so when she turned around without saying a word, disappearing into the crowd, it really didn't hurt that much.

But truly it did.

His grip on the whisky glass was tight as he brought it to his mouth, but Liam was still blithely chattering away, completely unaware, and he wasn't going to let a girl – _the_ girl – ruin his mood. Besides, he was so over her.

'Man,' Liam grinned, thwacking him on the back. 'Am I glad you came.'

He turned around, searching for someone, and then hollered, 'Robbie!'

The Gods were punishing him, Jasper was certain. He needed more Scotch. A double.

The crowd parted to reveal a man Jasper had only seen on pictures before. He needed no introduction, though, to know that this was His Royal Highness Crown Prince Robert. Even if he hadn't ever seen the man on television or in the newspapers, he would've known. He had always wondered about the twins, they hardly looked alike, but seeing Robert now, there was no denying he was Eleanor's older brother. They were like two peas in a pod. The resemblance was eerily. The same intense eyes, the same dark hair, and the same look of disdain they both seemed to have reserved especially for him.

'Robbie, come, come,' Liam beckoned his brother over, standing next to Jasper like a proud mother hen.

'This, dear brother,' he grinned, 'is _Jasper_.'

He breathed out Jasper's name almost reverently. Robbie arched an eyebrow, stepping forward to offer Jasper his hand. The latter took it hesitantly.

'So you're what they call "the saviour of the monarchy and my kingdom",' he drawled.

'I coined that term,' Liam declared solemnly.

'Yes, good for you, kid,' Robbie nodded. 'Good for you.'

He patted his younger brother on the shoulder with his free hand. The other still had Jasper's in a firm grip.

'Good to finally meet you,' Robbie said. 'It's too bad you did not stick around after the whole Pryce-debacle.'

Jasper had to resist the urge to flinch under his gaze.

'I did my job and wasn't wanted anymore,' he replied. 'No reason to stay.'

He quickly added, 'Your Highness.'

'Right,' Robbie chuckled, narrowing his eyes. 'No reason.'

'All right, all right,' Liam interfered. 'Stop the pissing contest and let each other go. You lot can arm wrestle some other time, but not on my birthday. Just be happy Jasper's here, Robbie, and behave yourself.'

Robbie glanced at his younger brother and seemed to slightly relax.

'You're right,' he said, showing a lopsided grin, quite similar to Eleanor's. He clasped Jasper's shoulder, squeezed good-naturedly.

'Thank you for keeping an eye on my little brother,' he said. He sounded the genuine.

'And my sister.'

Jasper nodded.

'It was nothing, Your Highness.'

Liam slung an arm around both their shoulders, whooping as he did so.

'So glad we got this all sorted out,' he grinned. 'Now let's all be friends and get drunk on my fucking birthday!'

He ran off, yelling, 'I'll be right back', over his shoulder, leaving the Crown Prince and Jasper alone.

'He had quite a lot to drink already,' Jasper observed. Robbie smiled.

He was leaning against the table, sizing Jasper up. He could feel the Prince's eyes on him.

'Liam appears to be a big fan of you,' the Prince spoke. 'Has been talking my ear off about you. Jasper this, Jasper that. He was incredibly excited, embarrassingly so, when he discovered you were coming tonight.

'Mister Hill had some nice things to say about you as well. Even Mother had. If I recall correctly, she called you a decent enough young man once one got to know you with your heart in the right place. Eleanor, though. Not one kind word. Better yet, not a word. She refused to speak of you. Leaves me to wonder. What happened there?'

He looked at Jasper, all friendly smiles, but his eyes were dark.

'I think you should ask the Princess, Your Highness,' Jasper replied slowly, not sure what the man did and did not know.

'I did but she wasn't very forthcoming, so here I am asking you,' Robbie said. 'And you don't have to add Your Highness to every sentence. This is a party. We're all just men here. And I'm just Robbie.'

Jasper doubted that.

'With all due respect, _Robbie_ ,' he said guardedly, 'but if something _had_ happened, I believe that is between me and the Princess. Even if we were to pretend something did happen, it's not happening anymore so it isn't relevant either.'

Robbie let out a short bark, shaking his head.

'Fair enough, Jasper,' he said. 'Fair enough. But I'm keeping an eye on you.'

'Wouldn't want to have it any other way.' Jasper smiled tightly at him.

'Sorry to interrupt your bonding,' Liam grinned. 'I believe this one is yours, Jasper.'

He had an arm around Poppy's shoulder amicably and she smirked smugly at Jasper.

'Imagine my surprise when I was practically accosted at the bar by this little one,' Liam chuckled. 'She offered to get me drunk and take me home. Apparently her _friend_ was taking way too long introducing me to her and she decided to take matters into her own hand.'

'I don't know her,' Jasper said stoically.

'Hey,' Poppy exclaimed. 'Don't bail on me now. I was about to offer him a threesome, you, me, him, but then instead he offered me shots.'

She held out a golden rimmed salver. It had eight shot glasses on it in various colours.

'Two for each,' Liam cheered, and he and Poppy clinked their glasses against each other, downing their first shots in one gulp.

'Your turn,' Poppy clapped, shoving the salver under Jasper and Robbie's nose. Her eyes widened when she recognised the latter.

'Bloody baby Jesus,' she shrieked, stepping backwards, almost dropping the plate. Robbie's hand shot out and he steadied her, grinning.

'Most call me Your Highness or simply Robbie,' he chuckled, 'but bloody baby Jesus will do.'

'I'd rethink twice before you tell her that,' Jasper said dryly. 'She might end up calling you that for the rest of the night. She's not all right in the head.'

Poppy growled, snapping her jaws at him.

'Shut it you.'

She handed Robbie a shot glass.

'Don't listen to this impolite brute,' she said. 'I am a very sophisticated, young woman, educated as well. This little affair with your younger brother at the bar was just a temporary lapse in judgement. I can assure you I am normally very well-behaved. He' – she waved a hand disdainfully in Jasper's direction – 'just brings out the worst in me.'

'He's a curse,' she sighed dramatically. 'But I love him anyway.'

She tugged on Jasper's arm, pulling it around her. He rolled his eyes, snorted as he did so, but he was content to let his arm rest on her shoulders.

They all downed the last four shots together and Liam took the salver from Poppy, placing it on the floor against Jasper's chair. They fell into easy conversation.

Jasper told Liam of his new job, his apartment, and Liam updated him on everything that had been going on. Both Poppy and Robbie added snarky comments to their stories, laughing hardest at their own commentary. The Crown Prince was a bit of a bastard.

Jasper liked him.

Apparently Liam was officially dating Willow now – Poppy had narrowed her eyes at that, but didn't seem too disturbed by the news. She most likely had already read about it in the tabloids, rumours had been flying, pictures of the Prince on his knees, but hearing it confirmed by the Prince himself was something entirely different – after a whole lot of courting and some misunderstandings, the latest involving Liam's surgically enhanced cousin Maribelle.

'Willow was actually jealous of Maribelle, so I had to show her there was nothing to worry about.'

'He could've just told her Maribelle was his cousin,' Robbie interjected. 'No, instead he took her to Paris, asked her to be his girlfriend on top of the Eiffel Tower and decided it was a good idea to get down on one knee while doing so and here we are today.'

'In my defence,' Liam said, 'how was I supposed to know the paps'd be there. I was just trying to be romantic.'

'And now the Queen Mother is –'

'I see you've found a new plaything.'

He felt her presence before he even heard her. She had a champagne flute in her right hand and Beck on her left arm. If there was one person he hadn't missed…

'Excuse me?' Confusion was written on Poppy's face as she addressed the Princess, but Eleanor ignored her, staring straight at Jasper.

'Len,' Liam sighed. 'Don't.'

He smiled apologetically at Poppy.

'Poppy,' he said, 'this lovely creature whom I have shared a womb with is Her Royal Highness Princess Eleanor. Eleanor, this is Poppy.'

'She's Jasper's friend,' he added as an afterthought.

He didn't know why he did it, but Jasper let his hand drop from Poppy's shoulder. He slid it down her back, coming to rest low on her hip. He squeezed and pulled her closer to him, all the while looking Eleanor in the eye.

'Girlfriend,' he corrected, not breaking eye contact. 'She's my girlfriend.'

She didn't even blink.

Poppy shifted, frowning up at him, and he prayed to every God he knew she'd go along with it. Please, just go along.

'Girlfriend, huh,' Eleanor said silkily. She separated herself from Beck, taking a step forward towards Poppy. The broad smile on her face reminded Jasper of a panther, stalking its prey.

'So you're the new missus Frost,' she said.

'Apparently,' Jasper heard Poppy mutter softly. The Princess hadn't heard. He tightened his grip, a warning.

'I didn't mean to be rude before,' Eleanor continued. 'It's just…'

She glanced at Jasper, smirking.

'He's a slippery one,' she told Poppy, drawing closer to the girl. 'Slippery and shrewd. I wouldn't get too attached to him. I've heard he's very good at breaking hearts.'

'Poppy and I are going to get something to drink,' Jasper cut in.

'We are?'

'We'll see you guys later,' Jasper said. 'Enjoy the party.'

He had a lock on Poppy's waist, pulling her along. Before they disappeared in the crowd, Poppy managed to wrangle out of his grip, enough to call over her shoulder, 'I'll come find you later, Liam', followed belatedly by, 'Happy birthday, Princess.'

She could've sworn she saw Eleanor smile.

The moment they were out of sight, she rounded on Jasper, squealing. He pushed her to the side, into the relative obscurity of a back corner.

'You fucking pantypisser!' She slapped him on the shoulder, pinched the bridge of her nose, and then proceeded to hit him again. He groaned. Perhaps she wasn't entirely right in the head, but she wasn't stupid. Poppy knew how to connect dots, even if they were dots only she saw.

'You and the Princess,' she grinned. 'Frost and the fucking Princess. Frost and _fucking_ the Princess.'

'Keep your voice down,' Jasper urged her.

'Keep my voice down?' she repeated. 'Keep my bloody voice down?'

She laughed.

'Frost, you've been bloody banging the fucking Princess and you didn't even tell me. I'll bloody well decide for myself whether I want to keep my voice down or not.'

She shook her head.

'Damn it all to hell, you know what this means?' she exclaimed. 'By association _I_ have been shagging the Princess. I don't know if I should be disgusted or excited.'

She jumped up and down, up and down, giggling like a child.

'Definitely excited,' she nodded. 'So excited.'

'Poppy, shut your trap,' Jasper sighed. 'I have not been shagging the Princess.'

She rolled her eyes.

'Yeah right,' she said. 'You practically stared that lad on her arm to dead and she wasn't entirely pleasant to me either. It's out there for the world to see. Your pauper penis has been inside the Royal vagina. Don't lie to me.'

He didn't reply.

'You know, people used to medically experiment on me,' she said smirking, 'but even I am not as screwed as you are.'

He ran a hand through his hair, debating what to tell her. He wasn't ready to have this conversation with her, should've have known he was going to have this conversation with her when he brought her here. He needed a drink and he needed to punch something. Preferably someone. He thought of that smug, little bastard Beck. Holding her arm like he belonged there. He wondered how long it took for her, after he left, to crawl back into his bed.

 _After all he did for her._

'I need a drink,' he grunted. He startled Poppy as he pushed past her, in the direction of the bar, immediately being swallowed by the crowd.

'Whisky, please,' she weakly called after him. 'On the rocks.'

She had no idea if he had heard her.

She looked around at all the strange faces surrounding her. The dancers on platforms.

Apparently Frost had more secrets than he cared to let her know. She was curious. Something had happened here, in this world she didn't know, this world where Jasper obviously had been a part of. He was on more than friendly terms with Prince Liam, the Crowd Prince undeniably had a bit of respect for him because of some heroic shit he had apparently pulled and the Princess…Something was going on there. She'd seemed so angry.

And hurt.

Poppy wasn't sure, but she thought there was hurt there too.

She knew there was with Jasper.

He returned, two glasses in his hand, and passed her one. Whisky on the rocks. Such a fucking treasure. He was scowling and she let him nurse his drink in silence. For as far as there was any in the club. His face was tense and his jaw flexed as he stared ahead. She had no idea what he was thinking about, but she could make an educated guess.

'Is she the reason you left the palace?' she asked softly.

He froze. Swallowed, his jaw working as he concentrated on his glass.

For a moment she thought he wasn't going to answer.

'We were over long before I left,' he lamented and she had never heard such grief in his voice. She wanted to reach out to him, but knew he wouldn't appreciate it, so instead she took another sip of whisky, not really certain what to say. At a loss for words.

'What happened?'

Curiosity won out.

He sighed and he was so not talking to her about it, not right now, but she at least deserved an explanation of sorts. He threw back his whisky and she offered him her glass, seemingly encouraging him. He took the glass, brought it to his mouth and savoured the taste. Let it linger in his mouth.

'I fucked up.'

Straight and simple, the god's honest truth. He neglects to tell her, that yes, he had fucked up, but he had done everything in his power to make it up to her, had tried so hard, but in the end it simply hadn't been enough because she was the bloody Princess and he would never be enough for her.

She was a spoiled little fuck and he was over her.

He hadn't noticed Poppy leave, but she must've have, as she handed him a new glass, Bourbon this time and white wine for herself. He was already feeling the buzz, but accepted the Bourbon anyway. He needed the lush.

Poppy grabbed a nearby barstool, pushed him down on it.

'So,' she murmured. 'Girlfriend, right.'

He laughed, loudly, and she leaned forward. She caught him by surprise, kissed him softly on the lips and grinned at him.

'Girlfriend privileges,' she smirked.

She leaned in for another peck, but he turned his head around, slowly. Her lips landed on his cheek and she ruffled his hair, unperturbed.

'I'm going to dance a bit,' nodding her head towards a group of girls on the dancefloor. Jasper recognized them. One of them was the girl Poppy had run off with at the beginning of the night.

'We'll talk when we get home,' she said. She made it sound like a threat and he grimaced.

'Don't worry,' she grinned. 'It will be mostly painless. Now stay out of trouble and try to enjoy yourself.'

He watched her for a while. Watched the way she moved to the beat. Rolled her hips, head thrown back. Perhaps he already had one too many to drink. From behind he could easily pretend she was the Princess. He revelled in the sight of her.

She was twirling her new friend around, was laughing and enjoying herself, and suddenly there were two of her and he must be drunker than he thought he was because there was no way. Except there was and he choked, his eyes widening and his heartbeat racing.

The Princess had joined her.

Poppy didn't show any surprise, but Jasper could see it in the sudden tenseness of her shoulder. She was uncomfortable. The Princess slung an arm around her waist, pulling her close like they were old friends. Beck was nowhere to be seen. He saw her whisper something in Poppy's ear - couldn't be too bothered about it, wouldn't be too bothered about it - and then they were both dancing, and smiling, and moving together. He watched them, intensely, and he very nearly felt like a pervert.

But then she looked him straight in the eye. He had trouble breathing.

She threaded her fingers through her long hair, pulling it to one side, not breaking eye contact. She swayed back and forth in sync with the bass. She rolled her shoulders, her hips undulating and her eyes never left his. Trailed her fingers through the air.

He was mesmerized when she touched herself, her fingers drawing a path over her body. She closed her eyes, bending and leaning on the beat.

He loosened his collar, swallowed thickly. The alcohol was muddling his senses.

She looked at him again. Then she strayed away from the dancefloor, in the direction of the stairs leading to the rooftop balcony. He did not hesitate. He followed her.

Two bodyguards stood at the top of the stairs, near the balcony doors. Jasper recognized Baker, the other he did not know. They nodded at each other, Baker arching an eyebrow.

'Off you go,' the Princess snapped. 'Don't let anyone up these stairs.'

They silently complied.

She pushed open the doors, didn't bother to wait for him. She strode to the balcony's edge, resting her elbows on the stone balustrade. She retrieved a cigarette from her pack, trapped in her bra, and lit it up.

There was no one there, so he just watched her, transiently. The back of her dress was open, just as he had expected. Perhaps that was part of the reason he had let Poppy wear a backless dress too.

He stepped forward, cautiously.

But then she spoke his name.

'Jasper.'

He shivered.

He approached her, stopping behind her. He could see the goose bumps on her skin.

She inhaled deeply, flicking the cigarette off the balcony. He followed its fall, to see where it landed.

'So, girlfriend, right,' she murmured. He had to smile. Poppy had said the exact same thing. 'Liam and Robbie seem to think she's nice. Good dancer.'

She was so close. He could feel the heat radiating from her body. Inhaled deeply to memorize her scent.

'She is.'

Her presence was overwhelming.

She turned around, leaned back against the railing and if she was surprised by his closeness she didn't show it. He inched closer and placed one hand on the railing beside her. The other hovered awkwardly between them. He wanted to touch her, wanted to so badly.

She didn't seem impressed, arched an eyebrow.

'Poppy is her name, right.' It was more a statement than a question.

He laid a hand on her arm, so light he was barely touching her. Brushed her upper arm gently.

'Such a common name,' she said musingly and it was only because he knew her so well that he caught the slight hitch in her breathing.

He traced her arm with his finger. Closed them around her wrist, rubbing the inside.

She shivered.

'Her dress is gorgeous,' she said.

He inched closer to her. His breath fanned over her face. Her tongue darted out. She wet her lips and he held his breath. His hand brushed the side of her breast and she leaned into the fleeting touch, leaned into him.

'She is beautiful,' she whispered, her voice breaking.

'She looks like you,' he said.

He lifted his hand, settled it upon her cheek. His thumb rubbed back and forth and she leaned further into his touch.

He wasn't breathing; she wasn't breathing.

She exposed her neck to him, her heart pounding. His other hand nestled itself in her hair, lightly pulling, and when he placed a feathery light kiss just below her jaw, she couldn't control the soft moan that escaped her.

He felt her tremble against him and he kissed her again, lightly nipped at her skin.

'Eleanor,' he sighed, his breath hot on her throat. He flattened himself against her, covering her body with his and she whimpered, sunk her nails into his chest while pulling him closer.

She looked him in the eye, her pupils dark and he could see the lust in them. She had never been more beautiful to him.

His lips gently touched hers. Tentatively, waiting. But then she slipped her arms around him and kissed him back. A shudder racked him as she parted her lips and all hesitation was forgotten.

He pressed against her, deepening the kiss and claiming her lips, her body. She tasted like vodka and cigarettes, hurt and regret. She tasted like Eleanor and he drank it all up.

His movements were urgent and he slid a hand beneath her dress. Trailed up the inside of her thigh. He splayed his fingers over her crotch, feeling how wet she already was through her panties.

She breathed his name and he kissed her again. He harshly twisted her nipple and she arched her back. He did it again, slipped a finger inside her panties at the same moment. Her moans turned to whimpers as he teasingly rubbed her clit. Ran the tip of his tongue over her throat, bit softly, and the sound she made almost send him over the edge. Jesus. He slid one finger inside her and fuck, she was so wet. She gasped, throwing her head back, lifting a leg to give him better access. He pushed inside again, two fingers this time, his thumb circling her clit.

She clung to him and for a moment he could pretend she wasn't the Princess but just a girl. Just a girl and he just a man. Except they weren't.

She was fucking whimpering and he loved the feel of her hands on his body, loved the taste of her, and god damn it, his dick was throbbing, but Poppy was inside and _she_ wasn't alone either and he was supposed to bloody be over her.

He stiffened, closed his eyes. He was out of breath, his chest heaving with the effort to breathe. Rested his forehead against her shoulder, only a second, just for a second, and removed his hand. His fingers were sticky.

Then he stepped back.

She stared at him confused, eyes diluted and lips parted slightly, looking so fucking sexy. He saw comprehension dawn on her, her eyes slowly narrowing, and resisted the urge to continue what he had started.

'Guess you still can't resist me, Princess.'

He cursed the hoarseness of his voice, but challengingly looked her in the eye. He could see anger building there. Anger and shame. He steeled himself against _that_ look. Turned around. She wasn't in control. Not anymore. He was fucking _over_ her and he wasn't doing this.

'Off I go.'

He slammed the balcony doors shut behind him.

Had he looked back, he might've seen the anger bleed from her body, leaving behind only a girl, as much confused and hurt as he was. But he didn't.

He stumbled back inside, breathing heavily. People brushed up against him, muttered faint apologies. He saw Poppy, chatting with both Princes, looking like she fucking belonged here. She didn't. None of them belonged here, least of all him.

She waved at him, beckoning him over, but he walked the other way.

He needed to find a bathroom, needed to wash his hands. He needed to be alone. Needed a moment to gather his senses. Perhaps he had drank too much. He didn't know. Didn't really care.

He leaned against the door, practically fell inside the restroom and locked it.

His dick was heavy and he groaned, flattening his hand against the bathroom stall. He was an idiot, a fucking idiot. It had been stupid to come here. He had left this behind, the palace and everyone in it. It was months ago. He had walked away. There was no going back there.

His free hand had dropped to his pants and he undid his buttons.

But she was so beautiful. So fucking beautiful.

He slowly started stroking.

Her body fit his perfectly. He fit _inside_ her perfectly. He could still smell her on his fingers.

Fastened his pace, rubbing his head.

Her lips around his cock. His hands in her hair. The taste of her mouth.

He slammed his hand against the wall, stroking harder.

He spilled his seed in a lavatory with the whisper of her name on his lips. He was truly fucking pathetic.

* * *

He didn't see her the rest of the night. He was glad for it. He drank Bourbon and whisky and he buried himself in Poppy's dark tresses. Spun her around on the dance floor, left marks on her hips from holding her too tight. Kissed her over and over and over again, and maybe he was trying too hard, but he couldn't seem to be able to remove the taste of _her_ from his mouth. Truly not.

And she was Poppy and she was Eleanor, she was everything he wanted and in the end he didn't care, because he was over her anyway.

The ride home was quiet.

'Jasper,' Poppy said once they reached the Great Eastern. He glimpsed at her, surprised. She never called him Jasper. It was always Frost or something else, mostly unflattering. His first name sounded weird coming from her mouth. Not wrong, but… Not right either.

She laid a hand on his upper leg, squeezed gently. He looked at her and she smiled wistfully.

'I understand, you know,' she said. 'And you were right. She and I. We do look alike.'


	4. 3 - For Frost

_I want to first thank you all for the support and reviews. I really appreciate it. Between university, work, family, a short vacation and lost luggage, I had little time to write, therefore this chapter took so long. This is actually half of the original chapter, but the chapter started to take on monstrous proportions (I was already on 7,000+ words and probably halfway) so I decided to cut it and give you guys something to read in the meantime. It's unedited, so bear with me. Also, it's a Poppy-heavy chapter, but once you've read the next, it'll make sense. Thank you all for reading!_

* * *

 **Chapter 3. For Frost**

Seeing him, at first, had been a shock. She'd had no time to prepare. Liam hadn't told her anything, hadn't warned her of his presence – he'd forgotten to inform her, Liam would later claim, but she knew he hadn't told her on purpose. Knew she would've gone ballistic, would've forced him to retract the invitation. She would have instructed the guards to deny him entrance to the club, had she known. But she hadn't known and so seeing him there, standing next to her brother, had been a shock. She had walked away without saying a word.

The second time she had been ready, had even sought him out, strengthened by Beck's presence on her arm and the alcohol running through her body. And then she had noticed _her_.

Her dress was stunning, her hair long and Jasper's arm so casually around her shoulders, was enough to make anger burn through her veins. She'd held a tight rein on it, though. Barely. And when he had walked away from her, pulling the girl with him, it felt like the day of the King's Cup all over again.

'She's a nice girl,' Liam had said.

'And there's nothing going on between you and the bodyguard, so why be bothered,' Robbie had added smartly. She hadn't been in the mood for that, had left Beck with his best mate and her idiot brother and had stalked off in search of more alcohol.

She might've seen them huddled together in a corner, might've seen them kiss and she might've begged Ashok to hook her up with _something_ , because all of _this_ was just opening up old wounds. And when her high kicked and she almost felt euphoric, she looked for _that girl._ She found Jasper first and followed his gaze, that penetrating gaze that used to make her shiver, his gaze which was now focused on someone else. On her.

She was high and she was drunk, and she just wanted him to look at her like that and so she joined _her_ on the dancefloor.

The wound was already open; rubbing salt in it was only the logical thing to do.

Even now she could hear her own voice echoing in her mind, when she had whispered in the girl's ear. Cursed herself still.

'He's a good one, Poppy. Don't take him for granted, like I did.'

 _Or perhaps he's taking you for granted_ , she had thought smugly when he had followed her out on the balcony, because he was looking at her like that now and not at Poppy anymore and the God's damn it all, but she had missed him so, so, so much.

She hadn't planned on kissing him back, hadn't planned on going _there_ again, had simply wanted to get him away from Poppy, for whatever self-destructive reasons.

And self-destruct she did.

Afterwards, she had latched herself onto Beck to forget, and secretly she hoped _he_ was doing the same, because every time she glimpsed him from the corner of her eye, he was kissing Poppy. Deep down she knew it wasn't so – knew that for him there was nothing to forget at all – and she wondered whether her bleeding heart was leaving a trail.

When one of Ashok's mates had dragged her into a restroom, showing her a little, white envelope, the night had turned into a blur. Thank God.

When they had gotten back to the palace, Liam had chewed her out and Robbie had berated her, but she hadn't listened and she hadn't cared much because at least the drugs had lulled her senses and seeing Jasper didn't seem to hurt as much anymore.

Except it did.

That was why she didn't know what had possessed her less than two weeks later – perhaps she simply liked to inflict pain upon herself – when Liam had announced to her he was having lunch with Jasper in the palace gardens. She had jumped off the sofa, had barked at him to give her five minutes, because, in the name of all things sacred, she was bloody coming with them.

Perhaps she needed new wounds. Perhaps he hadn't hurt her enough and maybe a reminder why he was bad news was what she needed. Or maybe she simply wanted to see him because she missed him so _fucking_ much.

She hadn't expected bloody Poppy to be there too, though.

And so she sat in the garden, shades on her face, with only her thoughts to occupy her, and for fuck's sake, what was she doing here? Her salad tasted stale and her tea was bland, and the company, even her brother, was getting on her nerves. She was craving a cigarette, wanted some alcohol, _needed_ her drugs. This prison of her own making was driving her crazy.

Once again Liam had her fooled. _Forgotten to inform her._ As if.

 _He_ – bloody Jasper – had the fucking audacity to look comfortable, to even smile – he never smiled, why was he smiling? – at Liam, at her, and at _her –_ and every time he smiled at Poppy it felt like a knife being jabbed deeper into her side. Perhaps he was just better at acting than she was or maybe – and fuck, even thinking it hurt – just maybe she really hadn't meant anything to him after all.

It was nauseating watching them. They weren't the most affectionate couple, but the way they behaved around each other showed such ease. The slight touches – she had seen her hand on his leg a couple of times already – and the way she would feed him small bites from her plate – 'You should really taste this, Frost,' and she would just force the fork into his mouth. There was nothing romantic about it, but it irked her either way – and when he removed a smudge of chocolate from the corner of her mouth, she practically choked on her tea.

'You don't like the food, Princess?'

She was shook from her thoughts when the girl – Poppy, she needed to start to refer to her as Poppy – addressed her with a concerned look on her face.

'You can call me Eleanor,' she smiled so sweetly her gums ached, glancing at Jasper from the corner of her eye. 'And it is good, I am just full. Had a hefty breakfast this morning.'

'You don't mind then,' the girl – _Poppy!_ – grinned as she reached over and took a hold of Eleanor's salad bowl. So much for being concerned. She should start calling her the Pig.

She wrinkled her nose in disgust as Poppy started to eat the remnants of her salad, but Liam thought it an excellent idea and joined her. The Prince and the Pig, how fitting. It sounded almost as good as the Princess and the Bodyguard.

She snuck another glance at Jasper, was surprised to find him looking at his _girlfriend_ and supposedly best friend with amusement on his face.

She scoffed.

'Problem, Princess?' he asked and she _knew_ he was baiting her.

'None at all, Jasper,' she replied. 'None at all.'

He smirked smugly and she pretended her tea was mightily interesting.

Liam and Poppy had launched into a conversation about the party and her ears perked up when she heard Poppy complain about Jasper's lengthy absence.

'You'd think the bastard would stay by my side,' she complained, 'me, being all alone and not knowing anyone there. I could've been roofed.'

Jasper snorted.

'She left me as soon as she had the chance,' he told Liam. 'She and her new friend even had the nerve to tell me I was boring and when she discovered you and Robbie I'm pretty sure she cursed the day I was born.'

'She's not alone,' Eleanor muttered. She signalled one of the waiters who were standing at ease at the edges of the garden terrace.

'Can I get something stronger,' she asked. 'Coke or speed preferably, but weed will do just fine.'

When the boy stared at her, she rolled her eyes.

'Wine,' she snapped. 'White and dry.'

'Do you mind if I share a glass with you,' Poppy asked and Eleanor had to resist the urge to glare at her.

She was the fucking reason she was drinking in the first place. Well, her and that good for nothing bloody ex-bodyguard.

She plastered on a big smile and nodded graciously. 'Of course.'

Wine. Something else they had in coming besides their taste in men. She snorted at the absurdity of it all.

'I waved at you,' Poppy said incredulously and Eleanor only just noticed the conversation had continued without her. Were they still on the subject of Jasper's disappearance?

She wished for the waiter to return quickly. She did not want to be reminded of what he had been doing during his momentary absence. At least, not sober.

'You came from the balcony I believe,' Poppy said and Eleanor felt Liam's eyes burn into her.

'Where were you, Lenny?' he had asked, when eventually she had returned to the party, eyes red-rimmed and considerably more intoxicated than she had been before.

'The balcony,' she had replied nonchalantly, and when he had asked her with whom, she had taken his full glass of rum and had walked off.

'The balcony,' Liam repeated Poppy's words. 'Really?'

Yes,' she said, oblivious. 'And then when I waved at him, he just walked the other way. Bloody prick.'

She slapped Jasper playfully on his arm and Eleanor sweetly smiled.

'What a prick,' she repeated and she revelled in the way his jaw tensed.

'Nobody asked you, _Eleanor_ ,' he said. He was fiercely protective of Poppy, Eleanor had already deduced a while ago, and perhaps she was jealous, and maybe not, but she wouldn't mind having his hand on _her_ knee and not Poppy's, squeezing gently, making her feel comfortable, even though he thought Eleanor hadn't seen it and she pretended not to.

She was grateful when the waiter returned with a bottle of white. Impatiently she snatched it from his hands and took a big gulp straight from the bottle.

The way his jaw tensed, how he flexed his hand when he thought no one was looking, told her that he was annoyed and she loved it. Perhaps she didn't have his love anymore, but she would settle for his anger.

'So Poppy,' she interrupted the conversation between her brother and the girl, couldn't care less about it and smiled broadly at Poppy. 'Tell me more about yourself, I am simply _dying_ to get to know you.'

She prided herself for only allowing the slightest bit of mockery into her tone. He, of course, heard and his eyes narrowed suspiciously. She fed on his discontent. Thrived on it.

She almost forgot to listen to Poppy.

' _Where_ were you born?' she asked, adopting a look of confusion, and Poppy laughed.

'Most people give me that face,' she grinned, 'Jackass Lane. It's in the area of Keston. Pretty sweet place to grow up. Literally six houses, one of them ours. Lots of jackasses, though, but that's to be expected.'

She smirked at Eleanor and the Princess grinned back before she even realised what she was doing. They fell into easy conversation, speaking of Poppy's childhood, her growing up in a house with five brothers, her moving to London and Eleanor, in all honesty, didn't even have to work hard to feign attention. The girl spoke a lot, but listening to her was manageable, perhaps even enjoyable. Mostly, it seemed to annoy Jasper and that was the only incentive Eleanor needed.

She leaned forward, closer to Poppy, lapping up every word that came from the girl's mouth. She handed Poppy the bottle, urging her to take a sip too, and from the corner of her eye she saw Jasper narrowing his eyes. Eleanor ignored him.

'Amazing,' Eleanor gushed at something Poppy had said and the two girls shared a laugh. Liam looked on satisfied, Jasper feigned indifference.

But she knew better. Eleanor knew better. When she laid a hand on Poppy's arm, conspiratorially inching closer, whispering in the girl's ear, she could practically feel his anger, this burning fire, and it sent a spark through her in ways more rousing than she cared to admit.

She shivered and signalled the waiter for another bottle.

She twirled a lock of Poppy's around her finger, pulling slightly, and when Poppy leaned forward, Eleanor smugly looked over her shoulder. Jasper was glaring at her and she smiled at him serenely. His anger was radiating from him in waves and she basked in it. Ran a finger down Poppy's arm and she told her that, yes, she loved Banbury cakes and they should certainly get some soon. _Definitely_.

'I don't think so,' Jasper interrupted. 'The two of you aren't going anywhere.'

His hand, previously on Poppy's leg, was balled into a fist, but aside that there was hardly anything showing he was mad or even irritated. But Eleanor knew better. She saw it in his stance, in his slightly faster breathing, in his eyes, those fucking dark eyes staring at her, penetrating her and for fuck's sake, she could feel it in the heat and wetness already gathered at her centre. She was aching for his touch and it was pitiful, she knew, but there was nothing she could do about it.

His eyes were hard as he stared at her and she smirked.

'Jealous I'll steal your little girlfriend from you?' she asked. 'Like you tried to steal what's mine?'

'Eleanor,' Liam exclaimed, but she ignored him.

'Afraid that she'll like me better than she does you?' she continued, taunting him.

'No one likes a bitch, Eleanor,' Jasper replied. 'And we all know what you are.'

'Frost!' Poppy punched him in the side, eyeing him sharply.

'Behave,' she mouthed, but he shook his head.

'No,' he said, getting up from his chair. Eleanor rose with him, almost delighted, eager. Liam and Poppy followed, sharing a quick, worried look.

'I am _not_ jealous, Princess,' Jasper sneered. 'And I am _not_ afraid. This isn't about you. You need to understand, I don't give a fuck about you.'

'Didn't seem that way at the birthday party when you were just short of fucking me on the balcony,' she snapped back and she didn't dare look at Poppy, pretended she hadn't heard her gasp, didn't see Liam's mouth fall open.

All she saw was Jasper and the way his eyes darkened and she had gone too far and it hurt, because his anger would feed her, but his contempt and disgust broke her down.

'I don't want my girlfriend hanging out with you,' he said slowly, carefully articulated, enunciated and his calm was so deceptive. 'Because I don't want you to drag her down. I don't want you to let her into your world and then spit her out when she starts to think she has a place there. I don't want here to believe the two of you can actually have a real bond, because you're incapable of becoming emotionally attached to people. I don't want her to get her hopes up, so you can hurt her.'

He swallowed, flexed his jaw and his nostrils flared as he breathed out heavily.

'I don't want you to use her for your own gain and then throw her out like she's trash.'

He looked back at Poppy, at Eleanor, ran a hand through his hair –

Liam had sat down again, slack-mouthed. Poppy simply stared. Opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out and she ended up looking just as stupid as Liam.

\- and then he turned around, leaving them all behind, but mostly just walking away from her. _Again_.

Eleanor followed him with her eyes for as long as she could. He didn't look back, just kept walking. And it fucking hurt all over again. She was an idiot and she knew it. She didn't need him to say or do anything to be hurt by him. She was bloody good at twisting the knife in deeper herself.

He just kept walking. _She was used to it._

And Poppy hadn't followed him, she just realised. She twisted around, facing the table. Liam and Poppy were both looking at her and suddenly she felt guilty. Fucking guilty towards this girl she didn't even know. This girl, this _girlfriend_.

And she wasn't a bad person. She wasn't this person Jasper thought she was – did he _really_ see her like that?

'I am so sorry,' she said, 'so sorry you had to hear that.'

She grabbed one of the wine bottles from the table, evaded Liam as he made to grab her hand.

'I do like you,' she spoke quickly to Poppy. 'You seem like a nice girl and if you want to, we could hang out, just the two of us and clear up this entire mess.'

She sighed.

'I'm not really good at friendships, but I'm pretty sure we could make something work.'

She waved to both of them, Poppy and Liam, and fled back towards the palace, bottle firmly in her hand.

She needed a lot more than a bottle of wine to drown away Jasper's words.

* * *

When Poppy arrived at Jasper's later that day, he was lying in his hammock on the balcony, eyes closed, nursing a beer and a sour face. For a couple of seconds she just watched him, took in the shape of his face, his strong jaw, his generally lean build and she repressed the slight feeling of disappointment as she thought back to that night. At the birthday party she had known he had been upset when suddenly he had latched himself onto her, showing affection and a sense of cupidity she had not known he possessed. But to find he had actually been fucking the Princess – almost fucking the Princess – was something entirely different. She didn't know why exactly, but it hurt, and she wasn't happy. But she would suck it up.

She just wanted to know what the _fuck_ happened between him and the Princess, wanted to know it all. He was still angry, though, still upset, and being the uptight son of a rock that he was, no matter how often she'd ask, he wouldn't answer unless he wanted to. She was tempted to flip the hammock, but decided against it at the last moment when he opened one eye and glared at her.

'Why, hello sunshine,' she grinned, snatching his beer from his hand.

'Took you long enough,' he grumbled and she shrugged.

'Needed to clear my mind,' she said. 'Apparently my _boyfriend_ almost had sex with the Princess on her birthday party, which, might I add, I attended with said boyfriend.'

Jasper sighed and in one fluid motion he rolled out of the hammock, landing smoothly on his two feet.

'We're not talking about this,' he said, pushing her inside, closing the balcony door behind him.

'You're staying over?' he questioned, as she started taking off her jeans, kicking the legs off into the corner of the kitchen. She never walked around the house in pants. Said it constricted her. He wasn't complaining.

'At least clean up your shit,' he said. 'And I have a night shift, so I'll be leaving in a couple of hours.'

'That's fine by me,' she said, leaning against the window, while taking a sip of _his_ beer. 'Sleeping over here is always better without your company.'

'But back to our previous subject,' she said. 'You know, the one where my boyfriend almost cheated on me with the Princess, who decided that throwing it out on the table during lunch with her brother, said boyfriend and the latter's new girlfriend was the right thing to do.'

'You're not my girlfriend,' he said sharply.

'But she doesn't know that,' she countered.

'Then you go bloody tell her that if you feel so bad,' he snapped.

Poppy rested her head against the window, sighing.

'I do feel bad,' she admitted.

Jasper sighed, rolled his eyes.

'You were being a good friend to me,' he replied.

'But a bad friend to her,' Poppy said.

Jasper scoffed. 'The Princess is not your friend.'

'But she wants to be.'

'Poppy,' he sighed. 'You and the Princess are not going to become friends.'

'Why not?' she countered. 'Because you say so?'

'Yes, because I say so,' he snapped, slamming his hand against the windowsill.

'Then tell me about her,' Poppy said gently. 'Explain to me why. Explain to me why talking about her makes you so angry. Explain to me what happened. Explain to me why you almost had sex with her and then eventually went home with me. Explain this shit.'

He ran a hand through his hair. Stayed quiet.

'What?' Poppy said stubbornly, one hand on her hip. 'You don't want to talk about _Eleanor_ , because she hurt your pretty, little heart? Because, how did you put it, she threw you out like trash? Because she was _incapable_ of _bonding_ with you?'

She threw his own words back into his face and she was fucking pushing his buttons. Fucking pushing it.

'No, I _do not_ to talk about Eleanor, Poppy,' he said. His voice left no room for arguments, but Poppy wouldn't be Poppy if she ever took a fucking hint.

'Why not? Because some shit used to happen between the two of you and nobody wants to tell me what the fuck is going on? I want and deserve to know,' she snapped. 'The two of you ruined a perfectly fine lunch for no reason at all and she apologised to me, which by the way you have yet to do and said she would love to hang out again because she wants to be my friend.

'So either you tell me what happened or you keep your stupid secrets and accept that I'm going to be best bloody friends with Her fucking Royal Highness Princess Eleanor. And keep your fucking dick in your pants.'

She was breathing heavily, staring him down and the reign on his anger was barely there, so close to slipping. She took a step backwards, seeing the rage simmering in his eyes, and he took a deep breathe to calm himself.

'Did you like the palace?' he asked, ignoring her last statement, completely changing the subject. He did not want to think about the Princess, did not want to talk about her and he certainly didn't want to be fighting with Poppy because of her.

Poppy immediately smiled broadly, too broadly, because she didn't want to fight either, she just wanted to _know_ , and she worried briefly if he could see through her facade.

'Bloody baby Jesus,' she exclaimed perhaps a bit too enthusiastic. 'I belong in that palace. That garden was fucking amazing.'

She did a little twirl, coming to a stand-still against him and grinned, dragging a finger down his chest.

'Imagine having to christen that entire palace,' she murmured lowly, biting her bottom lip. His eyes darkened and she grinned, because this she could deal with. Not dark rage, but upcoming lust.

'Liam seems happy enough with that Willow-y girl, but not all hope is lost. The Crown Prince has returned from the dead and after his coronation in three months, he will need a strong woman beside. I elect myself.'

Jasper smirked, placing a soft kiss on her bare shoulder.

'Heed my words, Frost,' she declared, offering her neck to him, 'for one day I shall be your Queen and you shall worship the ground I walk upon.'

'Don't I already,' he replied, placing a feather light kiss against her throat. He put a finger beneath her chin, pulled her close by the skirt of her boxers, and lifted her head, forcing her to look him in the eye. She smirked and he pressed his lips gently against hers, trailing her lips with his tongue. He teased her, slowly, and she sighed into the kiss, parted her lips.

She was an idiot, she knew it, but she couldn't stop herself.

'You kissed the Princess like this?' she murmured into his mouth. He snarled.

Next thing he had her up against the window, kissing her hard. Her breath was cut short as he grinded his hips into hers, his arousal tangible. His hand found the hem of her shirt, slipped beneath and his hand was cold against her hot skin. He sunk his nails into her flesh and growled.

'The Princess is nothing,' he breathed, his mouth still on hers. 'You're mine and she can't have you.'

She gasped as he turned her around, pressed her face against the window and kissed the nape of her neck. Dragged a hand up her side, forced it in between her body and the glass, cupping her breast, pinching a nipple. With his other hand he lifted her longshirt, his fingers hooking into her boxers and pulling the fabric aside. He was inside her in one fluid motion and for a moment he stilled.

'She cannot have you,' he groaned. He pulled her hair roughly, kissing the side of her neck. 'She can't.'

Then he slammed into her.

Her pulled her hair again, forced her to arch her back. Took her hard and fast. Her breasts were pressed against the window and she was pretty sure his neighbours could see her – _the fucking neighbours could see her!_ – but when his fingers found her clit and started to rub – bloody hell, the _shit_ he was making her _feel_ – she stopped caring. She came hard and she could've sworn she saw some kid peeping at them from the window across the street.

He took her twice more before she left and she didn't complain, and even though she didn't ask and he didn't say, they both knew it was because of _her._

* * *

She had brunch with the Princess at the Balcon three days later and though at first it had been a rather uncomfortable affair, they had decided Jasper was to be a topic unmentioned. They had their love of white wine in common, drug-related stories to share and while Eleanor liked fashion and architecture and Poppy was into photography and food, they found the four complemented each other and the day after they made the short drive over to Banbury, in search of Banbury cakes and architectural delights.

Poppy put off telling Jasper, decided she would wait a little. And while she put off telling him, she and Eleanor had lunch twice, dinner once and there might've been a visit to the London Zoo, which had been cut short when the paps had shown up.

 _The_ invitation to the palace came about two weeks after, when Poppy was running an errand at work. She had left her phone on her desk and Jasper couldn't help but to glance over. It was just a simple text, _come over tonight, 19.00_ , and Poppy hadn't saved the number, but he knew it was from the Princess. He _knew_. He pretended to not have read the message when Poppy returned to her desk and she never told him about it.

He guessed they both had some secrets. Ironically enough the Princess was involved in all of them.

* * *

It was a bit after seven when Poppy arrived at the palace. Baker escorted her to the Princess' room. She asked him to make a detour, wanting to enjoy the beauty of the palace. He, of course, refused.

'Bloody git,' she muttered as she entered Eleanor's bedroom. The Princess was seated on her sofa, a bottle of vodka in her left hand and a cigarette in her right.

'Started the party without you,' she said, 'and yeah, Hagrid's a bit of an ass. But I prefer him to _other_ bodyguards.'

'I'm sure you do,' Poppy said, letting herself fall onto the bed. Eleanor made a waving motion with her hand, indicating the bottle of whisky on the night stand.

'That's yours,' she said. 'I remembered you said you didn't like vodka.'

'Appreciate it,' Poppy smiled, as she started to pour herself a glass.

'So,' she said. 'What is your plan for tonight?'

Eleanor shrugged. 'Drink, talk, get shitfaced, dance, have fun, in this particular order.'

Poppy smirked.

'Talk, huh?'

Eleanor nodded, a similar smirk on her face.

'Yes,' she said, 'talk too. But first we need to drink.'

She held up her bottle and Poppy clinked her glass against it. She followed the Princess' example as she chugged the glass in one swing and she immediately refilled it. She couldn't fall behind on the Princess.

'I had dress fittings today,' Eleanor started. 'For the coronation.'

She took a swig.

'Robbie and Liam laughed at me because I looked ridiculous in every fucking gown the Queen Cunt made me wear,' she complained, 'and of course Mum was a complete bitch about everything, as to be expected.'

Another gulp.

'I got chewed out at work for something that wasn't even my fault,' Poppy countered, 'and I lost my keys so I had wait almost an hour in the rain for the locksmith because Frost refused to bring over my spare.'

She downed her second glass of whisky and Eleanor hid her surprise in a sip of her own. So what if Jasper had a spare key. She didn't care.

'It seems we both had shitty days,' she smiled.

'I'll drink to that,' Poppy agreed.

'To bad days and this,' Eleanor said, her glass raised. 'Hear, hear.'

Poppy had been thinking about that, about _this_. Thinking about the Princess and her ex-bodyguard, because that was what she considered _this_. Jasper had been extra distant the past days, ever since their lunch with the Royal Twins. Or maybe it had been her that had been distant. She _had_ been spending an awful lot of time with the Princess. Either way, there was no sense prolonging the inevitable. The only reason they were hanging out in the first place, was because the Princess wanted to know about _her_ and Jasper and Poppy wanted to know about the Jasper and _her_. They wanted the same. They were just both too proud to ask first.

'So,' Poppy began. 'What's the deal with you and Frost?'

Eleanor had expected the question, had been expecting that question for the past couple of days, for two weeks already, but still she was taken aback.

'Excuse me?' she said, cocking an eyebrow at Poppy. 'What are you talking about?'

She innocently took a small sip from the bottle, eyeing Poppy all the while. The girl stared right back at her, unimpressed.

'What?' Eleanor shrugged. 'I really don't know what you mean.'

'You and Frost,' Poppy said, waving her hand around impatiently. 'Don't play me for a fool, Eleanor.

'You and Jasper Frost. What was the deal?'

'How is that any of your business, girlfriend of Jasper Frost?' Eleanor replied.

'You tell me, ex-girlfriend of Jasper Frost,' Poppy countered.

Eleanor sagged, sighed and shook her head.

'It wasn't a relationship,' she said, sounding almost regretful. She sank further into the soft pillows laying on the sofa.

'Then what was it?' Poppy pressed.

'With all due respect,' Eleanor said, taking a swig from the vodka bottle, 'but I don't know you well enough to discuss my personal life with you. Certainly not when it involves your boyfriend.'

'If you are serious about this friendship thing,' Poppy said, 'you'll have to open up to me someday. Why not now? Besides, why else did you invite me?'

 _You've got to trust somebody sometime._

Eleanor chuckled humourlessly as the memory came to her.

'Maybe,' she said musingly. 'But I am not doing this sober.'

'I'm pretty certain we're both not sober,' Poppy said. She pointedly looked at the bottle of vodka in Eleanor's hand and held up her own almost empty glass of whisky.

'I am not talking about that kind of sober,' Eleanor said. She got up from the sofa and walked towards her armoire. Hill had organised all her drugs after she had cleaned up her act and even though most had been flushed through the toilet, she still had some left.

Purely for recreational use of course. Or when nosy girlfriends of ex-bodyguards wanted to have heart-to-hearts.

She rummaged around for a bit before she triumphantly held up a small white envelope.

'Just what I was looking for,' she smirked. Poppy arched an eyebrow, shook her head.

Eleanor started chopping the coke on an old CD-case, expertly cutting it as thin as possible, shaping it into three straight lines, each about ten centimetre long. Intrigued, Poppy watched her. She had heard about the Princess' drug affinity – who hadn't? – but seeing her in action was something entirely different. There hadn't been any drugged up party pictures in the tabloids since Robbie's return, but clearly she hadn't completely kicked her habit.

'Eleanor,' she started, but the Princess cut her off.

'Poppy,' she said. 'Dear Poppy.'

She slid the CD-case over to her.

'Relax,' the Princess grinned. 'It's just _one_ line.'

Poppy looked sceptical and Eleanor crossed her arms.

'You said you wanted to talk, right,' she said. 'Well, _this_ is how I talk.'

She leaned over, held one nostril closed with a finger. Chasing one line with a straw, she sucked in through it and after, she inhaled sharply a few times. She repeated this with the second line and immediately felt the drip. She basked in it, sighed content with the numbness in her mouth, even though it tasted horrible.

She grinned at Poppy, bared all her teeth and for a moment she resembled a predator, eyeing its prey.

'Your turn,' she sang sweetly.

Poppy hesitated, but only for a second. She told herself _for Frost_ as she snorted the remaining line of coke.


	5. 4 - That's what they always do

_I've been sitting on this forever and I just haven't had the time to finish this. It's unedited, not really finished yet, but I guess you have been waiting long enough. I'll try to edit it etc. sometime next week and publish the next chapter a bit sooner. For now, bear with me._

* * *

 **Chapter 4. That's what they always do**

'There was a time when there was only Beck.'

Eleanor smiled, reminiscing _that_ time, when all had seemed so simple.

'Twysden Beckwith?' Poppy asked and Eleanor grimaced at his full name, but nodded anyway.

'He was easy,' she said. 'Back then I thought it was heartbreak and the world against me, everything that was fucked up in my life and the end of the bloody universe.'

She chuckled mirthlessly, took a swig from the bottle of vodka.

'I was stupid back then,' she said. 'Compared to last year, to what I learned in the last twelve months, compared to everything I am right now, Beck was fucking easy. A walk in the park.'

'Compared to the King?' Poppy asked. 'To Cyrus and Robert, the monarchy…'

She trailed off and Eleanor smirked.

'Compared to the murder of my father, yes,' she said. 'And Cyrus' abhorrent kingship. My brother's death and Robbie's victorious return. Ted Pryce, a man I thought I trusted. Compared to all of that Beck was nothing. Even though I once thought he was my world.'

She looked at Poppy, one corner of her mouth curled upwards predatorily.

'But also compared to Jasper. Compared to Jasper, all the shit I went through with Beck was a fucking joke.'

She swung the bottle in Poppy's general direction and was surprised when the girl managed to snatch it from the air.

'Not feeling the high yet?' she asked, but Poppy smiled.

'Good hand-eye-coordination,' she replied, bringing the bottle to her mouth. 'And not sure what I'm supposed to feel.'

'High,' Eleanor stated. 'Sexy and wanted. Horny.'

She got off the sofa, strutted towards the table, where she had a bit of coke left. Not enough for an entire line, but she snorted it all up anyway.

'Anyway,' she continued as she sat back down. 'Beck.'

'Yes, Beck,' Poppy repeated.

Every in the United Kingdom and beyond knew of the tumultuous affair the Princess had had with Lord Twysden Beckwith II. The paparazzi scene had graced many a tabloid, newspaper and internet magazine for days, perhaps even weeks. And as the paps had gone digging, soon enough it had become common knowledge as well that Eleanor and the Lord might've already had a thing when he was still married. The Queen Mother had quickly put out that fire before it had even properly ignited, but still the rumours were there.

Poppy was never one to turn down some good old gossip about _that_ affair, especially not coming from the source. _Jasper Frost_ could wait.

'He was my first,' Eleanor admitted, 'and for a while I hoped he'd be my last too.'

'This was before or after he got married?' Poppy asked and Eleanor chuckled.

'Et tu, brute? Don't tell me you too read D-throned?' she asked.

'All day, every day,' Poppy admitted, not an ounce ashamed. 'The grass on the other side is greener and all that shit. Plus, I love looking at your Royal Beaver.'

'Don't get cheeky,' Eleanor said, sticking out her tongue. 'You want to hear the story or not?'

Poppy held up her hands in surrender and Eleanor continued.

'For a very long time I thought Beck was everything,' she sighed wistfully. 'End game.

'I liked him since forever. Since _before_ he married _her_.'

'I take it you had sex before he got married?' Poppy asked and Eleanor grinned.

'Both.'

Her grin fell.

'But not ever when he was together with her,' she said. 'Beck's too much of a gentleman to cheat. He has too much honour for that.'

'He only strung you along for however long,' Poppy added dryly. 'Such a gentleman.'

Eleanor flicked her the finger.

'I don't even know why I'm telling you this,' she growled, but there was no power behind it.

'Because you hope I'm going to tell you about Frost.'

Silence fell between them, but it wasn't uncomfortable. They stared at each other, Poppy a bit too smug to Eleanor's liking. But it was good. It was honest. And truly, she wanted to know about Poppy and Jasper. Had wanted to know ever since _that lunch_ in the gardens. She had originally thought she had set the pace, but apparently Poppy was impatient. It didn't matter. So was Eleanor.

She took a sip from the bottle, rubbed her nose where it had started to itch. Poppy mimicked her. The girl was insufferable.

'You're going to make me say it?' Eleanor asked eventually and it was nothing like her to give in first, but she just wanted to know. Desperately. And perhaps the coke and alcohol took some of her inhibitions away.

'What is going on between you and Frost?'

Better to just say it if she wanted answers. Something unreadable flashed over Poppy's face, to quick for Eleanor to catch, but she made a mental note to remember. Perhaps everything wasn't as peachy as they had made it seem. She smirked. Of course it wasn't peachy. Not after the bomb she dropped at lunch a few weeks ago. She couldn't help but feel self-contented about it. And dirty. But just a little bit.

'Define going on?'

Apparently Poppy was going to be difficult. Eleanor rolled her eyes and snorted.

'Still together or not, how did you meet, how many times has he fucked up already, does he get you off,' she summed up. 'That kind of shit.'

Poppy grinned.

 _Brave girl,_ Eleanor thought.

'You first,' Poppy said and Eleanor wasted no time.

'We were never together, he was my bodyguard, more than I can count on two hands and I regret to have to admit that Jasper _is_ sexually proficient. Unfortunately.'

Poppy barked a laugh, almost snorted whiskey over the table and Eleanor raised an eyebrow at her.

'Your turn, darling,' she said.

'Together,' – which wasn't a lie, it really wasn't, they _were_ together just not in the way the Princess thought – 'met through work, hasn't fucked me over' – after a slight pause she added a _yet_ and the Princess seemed to like that – 'and yeah, he gets me to come. Multiple times a day.'

 _Multiple times a day._ It made Eleanor's blood boil, the way she said it so offhandedly, as if it was nothing. Normal. The fuck was normal?

'He works at the same office as you do?' she asked instead.

Poppy nodded. 'We get together after work with some lads and lasses from different departments. Had seen him around of course, but never spoke to him. Then one of my mates brought him along and that was that.'

Love at first sight then. _Fuck him._

Poppy looked at her, warily, and she waved a hand at her to continue.

'A few weeks after he asked me to put in for a transfer to his division. I did and now we're somewhat partners. Still hang out with the others, though. We're a big, but tightknit group.'

Jasper didn't do big. It had been Jasper and her, her and Jasper, and eventually Liam had butted in, but that was a big as Jasper got. He didn't do _big_ and he certainly didn't do group. Except, well, apparently now he did. Eleanor took a large gulp from the vodka. She needed more, so much more, but the coke was working and she just drifted on it, couldn't stop herself.

'Go on,' she urged Poppy. 'When did you first have sex?'

'That first night my mate brought him to the bar,' Poppy answered truthfully.

'You skank,' Eleanor exclaimed and she prided herself on sounding almost playful.

'You're one to talk,' Poppy smirked back, oblivious, but for fuck's sake, she just wanted to slap that smirk off the girl's face.

'Do you live together?' she asked, but she already knew the answer to that one, providing an answer in her head even before Poppy told her that no, they didn't live together, but yes, they had each other's keys.

And Poppy was glad, because she hadn't had to lie yet, but she was certainly wasn't telling the entire truth.

And the Princess was fuming, because every word out of Poppy's mouth was like a stab in the back, but it wasn't as if the knife she was stabbing her with had any worth. The Princess didn't care about Jasper Frost anymore, except she did and the Gods damn it, it hurt.

She needed _more._

'How was it?'

Poppy looked at her, pupils dilated. She was starting to feel the high and Eleanor could notice.

'I'm just curious,' she shrugged, but her white knuckles straining to hold the bottle of vodka in her hand told a different story.

'It was –'

And it didn't even occur to Poppy that it wasn't right to tell the Princess, that it would benefit no one, not her, not the Princess and certainly not Frost, but she was feeling it, feeling that high, feeling that night, their first time and for fuck's sake, his tongue lapping at her throbbing –

She whimpered and Lord have mercy, but she sounded like _her._ Sounded like Eleanor on that balcony, with _his_ fingers inside of her and for the love of God, was she mad? Were they both mad.

She craved more but even less was too much. She breathed in, breathed out, and physically restrained herself.

'That good?' she eventually said, when Poppy offered no more and the other girl just smiled.

'You feel it then?' she asked, such an unnecessary question as if she hadn't heard it in that one moan, and Poppy sly smile said more than words could convey.

And _this_ was the girl, the girl Jasper left her for. And she knew she was lying to herself, that Jasper had left her because she wanted him to, asked him to, but it was so much easier to blame someone else for her pain, then take the guilt upon herself.

So _this_ was the girl.

How long had it been since _she_ and Jasper had been _together?_ Last time they had fucked. Would she taste him on her lips, in her cunt? Anger and want, drugs and alcohol. They were raging through her veins and she knew it wasn't her, but she didn't care, because this was the _fucking_ girl. _The_ girl.

And she wanted to know. So desperately. Always desperate when it came to Jasper.

'Do you taste like him?' she asked, moving to get off the sofa.

She slipped out of her black sweater, dropping it on the floor. She turned around slowly and smirked at Poppy. Wolfishly. Like a predator.

When Poppy smirked, she hummed, at the same time unclasping the back of her bra. She didn't cover her chest as the bra fell to the ground and Poppy arched an eyebrow, curiously.

'I wonder if _I_ still taste like him,' Eleanor breathed, her voice low, and she prayed that he still lingered there, somewhere, because no one else had gone there after him. Not even Beck. _Only_ him.

She ran a hand down her breasts, locking eyes with Poppy. She had a playful smile on her face, but the darkness of her eyes intrigued Poppy.

'I do wonder,' Eleanor said.

She dipped a finger inside her boxers, caressed her folds as her lips parted slightly, and she slowly moved her head back. Poppy watched her, fascinated, and licked her lips. Eleanor stepped closer to her, sank to her knees in front of her and removed her hand from her panties. She pressed Poppy's lips together with her thumb, her other fingers splayed against the girls cheek. They were sticky and smelt of her. _Not_ him.

'What _do_ you feel, Poppy?' Eleanor whispered in her ear. 'Because what you _should_ feel is on fire, like all you need is another body inside of yours.'

She blew softly, lightly touched Poppy's ear with the tip of her tongue.

'You _should_ feel fucking horny,' she repeated. 'You should feel everything your boyfriend used to make _me_ feel.'

She laughed as Poppy pushed her away and started to make her way to her closet. She kicked off her knickers on the way, with her foot flicking them towards Poppy who gave her the finger in response.

'Go get dressed,' Poppy called after her. 'And you might want to give the Royal Beaver an extra scrub. Smells like shit.'

Eleanor smirked, sticking out her tongue, before disappearing into the closet. There was no joy behind it, though.

 _Not like him._

Not anymore.

The music was pounding and the lights were blinding and Eleanor revelled in it. The club was nameless, she hadn't bothered to ask or look, had just told Baker to drive them somewhere they could dance.

Because dance, she wanted to dance.

And perhaps she had popped a pill, maybe two, who knew, but the world was spinning and so was Eleanor and she fucking loved it.

She grabbed Poppy's hand, dragged her onto the dancefloor, danced way too close, but still too far away and only when she rested her nose in the crook of Poppy's neck, had one hand resting on the curve of her ass and the other lost in her hair, did she feel like it was all right.

Good. It was good.

This body was too curvy to be him – and really, really, she really didn't want to think of him anymore – and she could never mistake the two but it was good enough because Poppy had him and she wanted him. It was only fair she had Poppy as a replacement.

And it was the drugs, she knew it was the drugs, but she was content.

Her and Poppy.

Good. It was good.

'We should get something to drink,' Poppy yelled in her air and it was as if she woke. Looked around dazed.

Music pounding, blinding lights.

Dancing.

She remembered.

'Definitely,' she screamed back over the music and suddenly she was all energy again, pulling Poppy through the crowd, towards what looked like a bar, not afraid to use elbows. That wasn't necessary, though. People soon enough recognized the Princess – _did you see her, it's the bloody Princess_ – and the crowd parted for her until they reached a black bar.

'Jäger!' she yelled and Poppy joined her, both slamming their fists on the sleek bar top. The bartender grinned, winked at them both and lined them up several shots of Jägermeister, much to their delight. Eleanor finished first, of course she did, but Poppy was close behind, and then they were off again, back to the dancefloor, back into the spotlight.

She knew people were watching; she was the Princess, they were always watching.

She was aware of the eyes as she threw her hair back, letting it cover the open back of her short dress. Was aware as she moved to the crushing beat, tangled her finger in her hair, biting her bottom lip as she did so. Purposefully let her fingers linger on an erect nipple as she slid her other hand down her body.

The almost suffocating smoke in the club swirled around her, around them, and she played with it, followed its lead.

And there he was. Tan, all legs and muscle, and with a fucking man-bun.

She smirked.

He was nothing like Jasper and exactly what she needed.

She descended upon him like a lioness on a prey. When she took his hand and started walking towards the toilets, he followed willingly.

Their kisses were feverish, hard and demanding, but it was exactly what she wanted and soon enough he had her bend over the bathroom sink.

His hands were in her panties, but she was already so, so wet and when he pinched her clit, she told him to just bloody stick it in.

He was big, not as big as Jasper, but it was still a snug fit and she revelled in it, grinding her ass into his hips. He growled and paused, his fingers tight on her hips, and she didn't have to tell him to fuck her hard – _fuck me so hard I forget about_ him – because he slammed into her, buried himself to the hilt so deeply she wanted to scream.

And she had to clasp a hand over her mouth, biting as she did so, drawing blood, because she almost yelled out _his_ name.

She looked at herself in the mirror. The sweat on her forehead, the boy pounding into her from behind, his eyes closed, her eyes open. And suddenly she felt disgusted, repulsed. She gripped the sink harder, shuddered.

'Get off me.'

Instead his hold on her hips tightened and he seemed to smash harder into her.

'Get off.'

She stared at herself, at him, at them and it was too much and she felt so so nauseous.

'Get off me,' she screeched. 'Get off, get off, _get off_!'

He dazedly opened his eyes, stopped his movement, but she was already pushing him away. Away, away and away as she hurriedly pulled up her slip, pushed down her skirt.

'Just go,' she whispered and she hated the breaking of her voice, hating herself for breaking. But she couldn't do this, didn't want to and he had to go, go, go.

'Psycho bitch,' he muttered, but he was buttoning up his pants, straightening his shirt.

'I'm sorry,' she murmured, but she didn't know what she was sorry for and who she was sorry to and he didn't hear it anyway, as he was already slamming the door shut.

She heard him yell at someone outside the toilet – 'She's just a fucking slag" – and she knew he was talking about her, but she couldn't care less as she sank to the floor, clutching her sides.

Perhaps she was a whore.

And immediately she thought of Jasper and her throat tightened. Constricted.

 _I'm sorry._

She whimpered and she had no idea what was happening but it felt like she couldn't breathe and for fuck's sake, _Jasper._

She was not a whore and he wasn't there and nothing seemed to be right anymore.

She thought she was over it, over _him_ , but here was the fucking weight of the world on her shoulders and she solely blamed him for putting it there.

And suddenly there were arms around her and it was _him_. Him.

Only it wasn't and she was never, fucking never ever using drugs again.

But she still sank to the floor in those arms, still held on to them like they were a lifeline and when the first tears came she buried her face in them, because it was too much and not enough and _Oh Poppy, if only you knew._

'They always leave me,' she repeated like a mantra and she felt like she should explain to Poppy that this wasn't about the bloke, not about that random guy, but she couldn't. The words just got stuck and there was no room for them, no room beside her tears, so she just let the thought go and let the tears fall. It felt like hours, could've easily been years, but she knew they were just minutes, before she felt like she could finally take a breath without choking on it. Her sobs were dry now, unladylike – if only her mother could see her now –, but it was better than drowning in that sea of salt. She clung to Poppy, didn't care for showing weakness, because for fuck's sake, she _was_ weak and she damn well knew it.

She damn well _knew_ it.

'I'm in love with him,' she whispered into Poppy's sleeve, barely above a whisper, never meaning for the girl to hear. 'I am in love with your boyfriend.'

But Poppy heard and never had someone sounded this broken to her.

She spoke before she thought.

'He's not my boyfriend.'

She swallowed, held the Princess breathlessly. Kept stroking her arm, never loosening her grip. Pretended normalcy. But she could practically feel the beating of Eleanor's frantic heart slamming against her, could feel its irregular rhythm and she knew, fucking knew, that it wasn't normal. Nothing about it was. They were sitting on the dirty floor of a fucking toilet in a bloody club she didn't even know the name to. This wasn't normal. They weren't normal.

 _Stop pretending, Poppy._

'He's not my boyfriend,' she repeated. 'Never was.'

She wanted to say _never will be_ but she couldn't get the words to leave her mouth.

'I'm sorry,' she said after Eleanor did not respond. 'I'm sorry for lying to you.'

They sat in silence for a long time after that, both not willing to move. So far for normal.

When they finally left the bathroom the music was still pounding and the lights were still blinding and she just didn't want to be _here_ anymore. She couldn't bear to look at Poppy, was repulsed by her own reflection and the alcohol tasted just as sour as the high she was on. But she refused to go home, because what was waiting for her there?

She wished she could take it all back, swallow the words back in, and she wished _that girl_ wasn't so bloody nice, but nothing ever worked out the way she wanted it to.

She'd rather stay in this club with this girl that was _not_ his girlfriend than go home and contemplate what a fuck up she was. Everything better than to go back to that empty palace that was filled with memories of people who had left her.

And even if it did taste sour, the alcohol dulled her senses even further. And even though she didn't want to look at her, Poppy kept her sane and standing, and even though she was disgusted with herself, in the smoky mirrors of the club she could almost forget who she was.

'Don't tell him,' she said. 'I don't want him to know. He doesn't deserve to.'

She shrugged, like it was nothing – in love with Jasper bloody Frost -, but Poppy knew better. The Princess was just a broken-hearted girl, fragile and damaged, and Poppy wanted to reach out to her, wrap her arms around the girl, but she knew this was their farewell and prolonging it had no use. So she simply nodded.

'I won't,' Poppy said. 'But I think you should tell him.'

Eleanor scoffed, balancing herself against the stone wall. Baker stood a couple of meters away, waiting, next to the Range Rover.

'Why,' she snapped. 'So he can say he won?'

'I don't believe _this_ was a game,' Poppy said.

Eleanor closed her eyes for a moment, inhaled deeply through her nose.

'It was to him.'

Barely a whisper and there wasn't anything Poppy could say or do that would make any of it better. She just sighed and pushed herself off the wall. The world spun for a moment and she briefly wondered whether she would make it home. But then clarity returned and all she _wanted_ was to go home and get off this fucking high and start thinking straight again.

'It's okay,' Eleanor smiled softly. 'I wanted him and he left. That's what they always do. They leave.'

Poppy looked at her, but she had no words of kindness for the Princess.

'I'll be seeing you around,' she said and Eleanor smirked.

'I doubt it.'

Poppy walked away without looking back, wanted to, but didn't. It wasn't as if any of it mattered. The Princess had said so herself: she was used to people leaving her anyway.

It was late when Poppy had left the club, even later when she found herself in front of her home. The house was dark, but when she entered, she saw light coming from the small garden attic out back. She stopped in the kitchen, grabbing a beer, not that she needed much more, and took a firm swig before she joined _him_ outside.

'Fancy seeing you here,' she said.

He barely spared her a glance.

'Had fun with the _Princess_?' he asked.

She sighed.

'Don't judge me.'

He made a non-committal sound.

'You know she's just using you,' he eventually said.

She didn't care.

'She needed a friend,' she replied. 'If it makes you feel better we can say she was using me.'

'But it wasn't even about you,' she said, 'Not in the way you think it was. It doesn't matter anyway. It's over now.'

He looked at her questioningly and she nodded.

'Over and done. A mutual agreement separation.'

He shook his head.

'It wasn't about me?' he questioned.

She snorted, took another deep breath.

'The world doesn't revolve around you, Frost,' she snapped. 'You're not the only one with feelings and you're not the only one lashing out. It's fucking to figure out what you're doing every damn second of the day even when it's as simple as buying you an apple or a pear.'

 _And she knew she wasn't making sense but she needed to push through this._

'How is _anyone_ supposed to guess whatever you're _feeling_? Because feelings are creepy to you so you rather hide them far, far away. And then when someone who doesn't even know you have feelings, manages to hurt them, those fucking _feelings_ of yours that no one knows you even have, you just, you know…'

She waved her hands around, tired, still high, so fucking high, and she sighed.

'You leave.'

She nodded, adjudged, and repeated it.

'You leave. You always do.'

He flicked her forehead, playfully, but her expression sobered him up.

'Poppy,' he started, 'I would never leave you, you do –'

But she interrupted him and groaned.

'I was talking about the Princess, you fucking asshole,' she spat and these emotions weren't hers but the high's so she reined her temper in. Brought her shaking hand to her mouth and took a swig from the bottle in it.

She felt the need to explain, to really explain.

'I used coke and you're a prick.'

His head shot her way and he was going to yell at her, she could tell, but she silenced him with a hand on his mouth.

'Shut it, let me finish.'

She shifted closer to him on the small bench, jabbed him in the side with her elbow.

'She didn't tell me everything,' she started and she thought of her promise and she _would not_ tell him, but she just _had to_ tell him something and dear Lord, did she want to tell him _everything_.

'There's a story there, between the two of you, but really Frost. You are a prick. You _really_ are a prick.'

And she couldn't call him a prick without explaining, but she couldn't explain without _telling_ him and she made a promise. Made a fucking promise. Her thoughts were mumbled and she struggled, took another swig from her bottle.

She felt even higher than before.

'She wanted to feel like she mattered.'

This much she could say.

There was no accusation in her voice as she leaned against him, relaxed into the heat of his body.

'She just wanted to feel like she mattered,' she repeated, her voice a whisper on the wind.

She sighed.

'She just wanted to feel like you cared.'

The stars were bright, one of those nights, and he took a sip from his beer. Poppy looked at him, her head slightly turned up. Her pupils were dilated. Her eyes fucking huge. But there was no judgement there, truly not. He could only see the stars in her eyes.

Eleanor.

'No matter what she said or did,' Poppy whispered. She sounded regretful. Wistful. Like the words tasted bitter on her lips. But when she turned to him, there was a small smile on her face and he held her, didn't flinch as she inched closer.

When she kissed him, her lips on his, his body against hers, he admitted. He already knew what she was about to say and there were so many stars and so many thoughts, and his heart beat ' _Eleanor'_.

'No matter what she said,' Poppy breathed against his lips.

'She only wanted you.' She breathed it against his lips, breathed it into their kiss and the words were heavy in his mouth.

They settled against each other and she flexed tiredly against him, cocooning herself beneath his chin.

'She only wanted you,' she sighed. 'And you left.'

Unwittingly, she repeated the Princess' words, whispered them against Jasper's body.

'That's what they always do. They leave.'


	6. 5 - Message received

_Apologies! I had something else here first, but I felt like using Liam and Robert to get Jasper back into the Palace wasn't really believable. Not yet, anyway. So I took it down, first to edit, and eventually it turned into chapter 8 and this entirely new chapter came to life. I also think this one fits the last chapter better. Not yet edited, haven't really had the time yet. But I'm planning on editing this and updating either Obliquity or both before next weekend. Bear with me!_

 _Also, added one tiny, tiny sentence to the prologue:_ 'I don't need you anymore, Jasper,' she said, deliberately slow. 'I don't want anything you have to offer. There's nothing to fix or make up for. I just want you gone. Please.'

* * *

 **Chapter 5. Message received**

'Still here, then?'

And he rolled his eyes, annoyed, seeing her sitting on his kitchen counter, sipping from a bottle of Heineken and looking for all purposes like she owned the damn place.

She looked a lot better than a couple of nights ago, when she had been coming down from her high, complaining of a severe hangover and using him as her personal slave. Bring me this; bring me that; Frost, I'm thirsty; Frost, I'm hungry, and basically Frost, everything. He'd nursed her through the day with the intention of dropping her home as soon as she was able to walk straight again, but unfortunately, as he had just concluded, she was still here. Curse her.

'Yes, I'm still here,' Poppy said, offering him her cheek so he could kiss it. He opted for a sloppy one on the mouth and she smirked.

'Definitely still here,' she grinned. 'But unfortunately, so are you. Which begs the question why you are not at the Palace yet.'

And he was not having this discussion with her again, because she had been busting his balls in the morning before he left for work and she had been bitching about it when he had his tongue up her vagina and it was bloody all she could talk about the past few days, so he wasn't doing it again.

He was going to grab a beer, sit down on his sofa with his feet on the table, and Poppy had better made him dinner and should keep her mouth firmly shut, because he was not, _definitely not_ , talking about Eleanor, _again_.

'Oh come on, Frost,' Poppy grinned, jumping down from the counter. 'It's been four days, already.'

He knew.

Four days of constantly hearing how he should text the Princess, how they should talk, how there was unfinished business and oh yeah, also four days of hearing what a fucking arsehole he was.

' _You_ should've been _out_ of my house at least four days ago,' he shot back. He pulled open his refrigerator with a bit more force than was necessary and the bottles in the door clanked together. He grabbed two at once and slammed the door shut again.

'You're starting to overstay your welcome,' he muttered as he walked past her and curse the girl, because she just laughed.

'Don't act like a child,' she said, following him into the living room.

And there was no escaping her.

She sat down in front of him, planted her ass on the table, obstructing his view of the telly and forcing him to look at her. He did so, but not before rolling his eyes excessively. The Magpies against the Spurs game was still on and he had planned on watching it in relative peace. Poppy obviously had different plans.

'You need to understand,' Poppy started, 'you really hurt the Princess and she bloody well deserves at least a phone call or a text from you.'

 _Here she goes again._

'I'm certain she was in love with you' – _not a lie, not a lie,_ only Eleanor _was_ and still _is_ in love with you, Frost – 'and you decided to leave her and honestly, that wasn't very polite of you.'

'The least you owe her is a fucking apology, Frost,' she said. 'And perhaps an explanation.'

Jasper grunted.

She scowled at him and he could see her getting annoyed, but that only made two of them. Four days of this fuckspew was more than enough for him, but apparently Poppy had no intentions of relenting.

Merciless, little bitch.

She snapped her fingers, demanding his attention and he let her ramble, his face impassive, as she went on about decency and his general arseholeness and ' _I have the Princess' number for you if you like_ ' or ' _you could always call Liam, he'll definitely let you into the palace, even better, I will call him!'._

'We all know you have about as much emotion as my big toe,' she concluded her campaign in favour of the Princess, 'but that still isn't an excuse. She doesn't seem like the kind of person who falls head over heels for someone who doesn't give her the light of day, so you must've given her some hope at one point. Which is even worse, leading a girl and then just leaving her without an explanation. I mean, it's not her fault you weren't ready for commitment.'

And he jumped up. Because really, if there was one person that hadn't been ready to commit, it most definitely wasn't him.

'Not ready for commitment?' he chuckled darkly, leaning practically in Poppy's face and she looked taken aback, but just slightly. 'I wasn't ready for commitment?'

He scoffed, but managed to put a tight hold on his anger, sitting down again.

It wasn't even worth it. Whatever _it_ was.

Poppy smirked then, pleased she had finally gotten a response out of him.

'It's true, Frost,' she said. 'You're not ready for commitment. Not now, not then. You don't feel like anyone deserves an explanation about your actions and you owe no one accountability. You just do you, regardless of what it might do to others. You're not ready to actually put someone else first, besides yourself. Ready to compromise, ready to give, and ready to accept. You're not, Frost, and you damn well know it. You think we'd be in this situation if you were? Casually fucking but not really?'

'Not _wanting_ to commit to you and not being _ready_ to commit are two entirely different things, Poppy,' he spat at her.

The moment the words left his mouth he regretted them, but not for long, because she gave as good as she got and when she told him ' _you're just as fucked up as your darling daddy',_ his temper flared and he almost wanted to strangle her.

Actually just wanted to slam her face into the wall.

'I told you about my father in private,' he said slowly. 'Not for you to use it against me.'

'I am _not_ using it against you,' she sighed exasperated. 'I am trying to prove a point here, Frost.'

'Do you want to become like your father?' she asked. 'Because you're pretty much halfway there.'

'I liked you better when you were still on coke and unable to form a real sentence,' he said. 'Because this crap coming out of your mouth is even worse than what you were spewing a couple of nights ago.'

She jabbed a finger into his chest and all hope of this being over quickly and him being able to just watch the game in fucking peace, flew out of the window.

'Now you listen to me, Jasper Frost,' Poppy started. And if he could knock himself unconscious he would.

'From my point of view you're just as emotionally closed off as your father,' she said. 'And nobody blames you, but you need to remember that you have people around you who cared about you.'

'Besides me,' she added, when he looked at her ruefully and perhaps he wasn't as emotionally closed off as she said he was, because it was entirely too easy to read the loneliness and longing of his face. But if he was lonely, it was his own fault and _bloody hell_ , why couldn't he see that?

'There's Jonathan, and Elisabeth and everyone else from work,' she said. 'And don't forget my mum, who adores you, and believe me when I say the Princess cares about you too.'

'And that's exactly why you need to talk to her,' she nodded, 'because she cares and obviously you still care and I think it would be good for the both of you. Get some closure. Get some closure and don't be afraid to let people in.'

But Jasper scoffed, rolled his eyes, and pushed Poppy aside with his leg. The game was still on.

'Frost,' she started to say, but the coldness of his gaze when he looked at her, shut her up. She had no right. No right to compare him to his father, no right to make him seem like some sort of hermit and definitely no right to pry open _that_ wound again because the Princess damn well could care less about him.

Bloody entitled shrew. She only cared about herself.

Except she didn't but it was so much easier to be angry at her and think of her as heartless, than to admit anything else.

'Jasper,' Poppy said softly. She extended an arm, placed her hand on his. She squeezed softly and unwillingly he tore his eyes away from the telly. Looked at her.

Her expression was guarded but her eyes were as gentle as ever.

He swallowed, because maybe she was right and maybe he needed closure and he definitely knew he shouldn't be afraid of letting people in, but then again, the only person he had ever purposefully let in, had shoved him out of her life without a second glance.

'She's in love with you,' Poppy said and all blood rushed through his ears, because _what the fuck, what the fuck was she saying_?

Poppy breathed in deeply, had gone and did it and fur fuck's sake, _you only managed to keep your promise four days, you silly girl_ , but she stood tall, staring Jasper straight in the eye.

'She is in love with you,' she repeated slowly and perhaps his brain had exploded for all the response he was giving her, so she continued. Because she had said _this_ , so why not tell _everything_.

'After we used the coke,' she said, 'we started talking. She about Beck, I about, _well_ , you.'

'She said that Beck had seemed simple compared to you, Frost. Simple and easy compared to _you_. And don't you think it means something when she compares you with Beck and the other way around?'

And he listened breathlessly.

'We went to a nightclub and we drank more alcohol and there were some pills involved. We did shots, started dancing, had an altogether great time and then there was a bloke.'

She let out a short chuckle.

'There were a lot of blokes actually,' she said. 'But there was only one the Princess found interesting.'

Jasper leaned forward unconsciously and if Poppy noticed, she had the propriety not to mention it.

'They danced together and I think there was some kissing involved, but only a couple of minutes later, give or take, I lost sight of them. It didn't really bother me, because I was drunk and high and whatever.'

Jasper swallowed slowly.

'But then there was some commotion near the toilets and I was looking for her anyway. The bloke from before was there, cursing. Think he said something about a whore or something. Don't really remember.'

And Jasper was cursing at her in his head too, for dragging this out. But for all her goods intent, Poppy still wasn't sure.

'She didn't want me to tell you, you know,' she said. 'Made me promise, but we all know how good I am at keeping things from you. Or keeping promises in general, for that matter.'

'She was on the floor,' she said softly. 'Her hair all messed up, crying. I don't know.'

Tightened her hold on his hand, because she felt him tense and she saw anger beginning to boil up.

'He didn't do anything to her,' she said quickly, 'nothing she didn't want him to do.'

And he calmed down, but not really, because the rise and fall of his chest was still uneven and the tenseness of his jaw could slice rock.

'She was crying and feeling fucked up,' Poppy said, 'because he wasn't you.'

He stared at a spot next to her head, right above the telly.

'She loves you,' Poppy continued. 'Still does. Told me as much. Said she was in love with my boyfriend. Because, yeah, that is how much you screwed her over. How much we fucked her over. What was the fucking use of telling her I was your girlfriend? No fucking use except to hurt her.'

'I mean, she _loves_ you, Frost.'

For fuck's sake, how desperate she sounded.

And the more she thought of it, the angrier she got. Telling the Princess Poppy was his girlfriend and then turning around almost fucking her on the balcony. Saying he has no feelings for her, but then doing a bloody good job of showing her how deep those feelings ran. _Up against the window._

Maybe Eleanor was right.

'You love playing games, don't you?' she asked, her eyes narrowed suspiciously, and Jasper wasn't prepared for her change of tone.

'What?' he said and the word tumbled clumsily from his lips.

'You play games,' Poppy repeated slowly.

'She begged me not to tell because she thought you were playing games with her,' she explained. 'She thinks you never cared about her and that everything, whatever that is, was a game.'

'Did you play games, Frost?' she asked. 'Did you really apply for a job at the Palace with the intention of screwing her over? And even if you did, do you really not have an ounce of decency in your body to apologise for whatever the fuck you put her through? So maybe she can start healing and get over you, since you claim you're already over her.'

'Are you, Jasper? Are you _over_ her?'

And such a surge of anger swept through him, because who the _fuck_ was she to question him about his feelings for the Princess, when she had been on his cock just this morning?

'Shut up, Poppy' he snapped. 'Don't stick your bloody nose where it doesn't bloody belong. I told you I was done with it, I told you I didn't want you hanging out with her. I'm not going back to that life, so drop it.'

He ran his hands through his hair, frustrated. She was practically in his face, only she wasn't, standing a couple of feet away, watching him. The walls were closing down on him. The air was thick. He needed to breathe. He needed out. He just –

He got up, breathing heavily. Stumbled towards the balcony, groaning when she followed him.

Of course she would follow him. Fucking _pest_.

He stretched out in the hammock, hand on his forehead, and thank god she didn't impose even more by joining him. Instead she opted for leaning against the railing, looking at him calmly, while he was _this_ close to losing his shit.

'Jasper,' she started, but he clenched his fist and her voice faltered.

'Give me a minute,' and he cursed the hoarseness of his voice.

He needed more than a minute, he was certain, because apparently ten months hadn't even been enough to get over this fucking shit. But for now he focused on his breathing, focused on clearing his mind and he knew that as soon as she could she would start digging into him again and shoving her opinions in his face, whether he liked it or not.

Breathed in slowly, rubbing his hands against his face.

Breathed out.

And the more he thought about it, there was only one way to shut Poppy up. Perhaps she even deserved to know. She _was_ his best friend and unfortunately she had managed to successfully make herself, quite annoyingly, part of this, apparently, unfinished story. Maybe it was time he said it out loud, instead of hiding it away in the darkest corners of his mind.

He started massaging his temples and sighed.

'It wasn't a game. I loved her.'

It seemed wrong.

'I love her,' he corrected and speaking those words made him feel so tired, but he pressed on.

'I came to the Palace for the wrong reasons and the Princess was the only reason I stayed. Even after I fucked up I stayed, because I couldn't leave her without her knowing I was sorry. That family, her and Liam and even the Queen Mother and the other bodyguards, became _my_ family too. My life. I would've given everything to just stay with her and work towards getting her to forgive me, forever, infinitely, if it meant I could still see her.'

'She didn't want that,' and his tone had changed, because he seemed almost angry. 'I wanted to give her everything and she didn't want it. So instead she just took it all and then threw it away. And losing her, meant losing Liam and losing my friends basically my life.'

'I had to start from scratch, Poppy,' he said. 'And now I have you. I have a job and I know people that see me as a friend' – and if Poppy thought it was a peculiar choice of words, she said nothing – 'and I have a fucking life.'

He covered his eyes with his hand, chuckled humourlessly.

'I have a life,' he snorted. 'How pathetic do I sound?'

'It doesn't matter anyway,' he continued. 'Because I have a life. And I cannot go back there, Poppy. She stripped me of everything I had and I cannot put myself in that position again.'

'But she loves you too,' Poppy countered. 'She loves you just like you love her. Doesn't that mean anything?'

'No,' Jasper replied. 'She _thinks_ she loves me. Because she knows I love you. She can't have that, because that would mean her little toy has moved on. She's playing with you, Poppy. Don't let it get to you.'

And if it wasn't all that tragic, Poppy would've laughed out loud.

 _Playing games. Playing with you._

Fucking idiots they were, thinking the same of each other.

'This could be an epic love story,' she said. 'The sort unknown to mankind. The least you can do is talk to her. See what she has to say. Perhaps _you_ took everything she had, when you walked away from her. _Everybody_ always leaves her. She must've been terrified. _Of course_ she would tell you she didn't want what you had to offer. I mean, you screwed her over first, let's not forget that.'

'I don't want an epic love story,' he said. 'I'm happy with you, Pops. Don't need nothing else.'

'Frost, what are you saying,' she said, shaking her head. ' _Everybody_ wants an epic love story.'

But he arched an eyebrow, beckoned her closer, and when she walked towards his hammock, he took one of her hands in his.

'I'm not everybody,' he said. 'I only want you.'

He looked up at Poppy, something resembling a smile on his face.

'I'm choosing you over her.'

It could've been so romantic and perfect, but it wasn't and Poppy damn well knew it.

'I never fucking asked you to do that,' she exclaimed. 'The fuck are you spewing? Have you heard anything of what I just said? You need to fucking choose _you_!'

And for fuck's sake, she was getting angry. Because what happened to _not wanting_ to commit?

'You're a bloody disgrace, Frost,' she scoffed.

'A disgrace for choosing you?' he said. 'For saying that I'm not going back there? You think I don't know what you feel for me? You think I don't care?'

'Don't assume, Frost,' she snarled. 'And get your fucking act together. Ever since that birthday party you've been acting like a bloody prick and I fucking _know_ it had everything to do with her, so don't fucking stand here, lying to me and telling me you're choosing me and all that bullshit.'

'I don't love you like that, Jasper,' she said and bloody hell, she did. 'I love your cock and I love your body, but you're too broken and damaged emotionally to be of any use for me beyond physically. You and her, you're perfect for each other. She's out there fucking some random bloke in the bathroom, you're out here fucking me and besides your seed, spilling all your brokenness inside of me.'

And she was trying to make him angry on purpose, he thought, because that was the only way Japer Frost could be pushed to do something, or maybe she wasn't and then he couldn't pretend he was slightly hurt by her words.

She needed to shut it. His head was spinning again, his beer dead, and for fuck's sake, _Eleanor._

He wanted to push past her, go back inside, find something stronger to drink than this, but she blocked his path. He grabbed her arms, to shove her aside, but the motion was so familiar and he remembered a different time when he had gripped the Princess like that.

Better times.

He wished he could go back there.

Stay there.

'Jasper, you're hurting me,' Poppy said and her voice sounded clipped.

His hands were wrapped tightly around her upper arms and he let her go as if burned, jumping backwards, away from him. She followed him, stepping forward, reaching out, because no matter what she said or what he did, she _cared_ , so so much, but he turned from her.

'Poppy, please, just leave, just for a little bit,' and he never begged, but it sounded a lot like he was now.

She stared at him, assessing. Then she seemed to make up her mind.

'Gladly,' she said coldly and she didn't even slam the door behind her, which let Jasper know her anger wasn't feigned. She had always been a dignified hothead.

He sighed, ran a hand through his hair. Exhausted.

 _She_ couldn't do this to him. Not again.

His phone was lying next to him on the small balcony table. Tempting.

He picked it up, toyed with it a couple of moments, contemplative, waiting for the beat of his heart to slow down. Waiting so he could think rationally again.

Waiting.

And then.

 _We need to talk._

Message sent. Dim the screen.

A couple of seconds later the screen lighted up again.

Message received.


	7. 6 - Bloody fool

_New chapter, finally. Work was crazy but it has finally calmed down a bit, so hopefully in between Euro 2016 and work, I can get a lot of writing done. This wasn't edited; I finally have the time to write, so I was like, write first, edit later. I have some MAJOR issues with the last chapter and seriously debated taking it down, but it felt like that would've been unfair to you guys. Promise next chapter will be better. Thank you all for reviewing and still reading this. Love!_

* * *

 **Chapter 6. Bloody fool**

He had never intended to meet her in person, hadn't even known what exactly to talk about, because _yes, he might love her_ , but _no, that didn't mean he wanted to_ and just maybe, he didn't deserve to. But her reaction had been quick and to the point – _Cartizze, 9 pm tomorrow night_ – and even now, while he was driving there, he still wasn't entirely too sure whether this was a good idea or not.

Because he could tell himself he was fine, that he didn't want to go back _there_ – whatever _that_ was – and he could pretend to his heart's desire, but there was no denying the way his heart skipped a beat – or two, or three – when Eleanor replied to his text. And Jasper Frost didn't do nervous nor excited, but the tingles running through his body certainly suggested otherwise.

He hadn't even told Poppy about meeting the Princess, because she would've had a smug _I told you so_ waiting for him, while in fact she had told him nothing and everything at all and he still had nothing to talk about.

Honestly, what _were_ they going to talk about? He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, waiting for the light to turn green again.

 _Yeah Princess, so basically Poppy told me you love me and maybe I have feelings for you too, but you kicked me out of your life, so now you fuck off out of mine._

He imagined that would go over well with her. Though, honestly, he was scared it would.

He could just tell her he loved her, get it all out of his system, give it a – as Poppy had said – good end. It was more than they both deserved, but desperately what they needed. To end it. On good terms. Without lies and accusations and secrets left between them.

He truly wanted to talk, he decided, he just had no idea where to fucking start. Because so much had already been said and done and nothing had ever been enough.

He drove 'round Grosvenor and Brook Street for a while, searching for a parking spot and perhaps just postponing the inevitable. He eventually found a spot on Brook's, but he sat in his car for at least ten minutes after. Mostly because he knew the Princess hated it whenever he was late. Anything to get under her skin and get the upper hand.

The bar's obscure entrance was well-concealed and he walked past the Mews thrice, before he discovered the small sign next to the posh bar, indicating that yes, this _was_ the doorway leading to Cartizze. By then he was already twenty minutes late.

A thick, broad-shouldered man in a smart suit stopped him as he stepped through the doorway, eyebrows arched, looking for all means unimpressed, and Jasper mimicked his expression.

 _I was her bodyguard first, so please, try your best._

He would've been perfectly fine staring the bloke down for however long it took, but a voice sounded from behind the heavy curtains separating the foyer from what he believed was the main bar.

'Let him through. He's with us.'

And for a second his impassive façade fell.

The voice wasn't Eleanor's, most definitely not. It was distinctively male and Jasper found his hands unwittingly balled into fists.

 _Us_?

He nodded at the bodyguard at the door, unable to keep a smug grin off his face, as he stepped through the curtains and into the bar.

There she was, Eleanor Henstridge, the Rebel Princess.

And for fuck's sake, it was all bloody three of them.

She was flanked by them both, the Heir Apparent Robert Henstridge on her right, and to the left her twin brother Prince Liam.

 _Fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK,_ and he schooled his features into an impenetrable mask of dispassion.

'Your Highnesses,' he said calmly and there was one empty chair placed before them, clearly meant for him, so instead he took a seat in one of the fauteuils to the near right. Eleanor pretended not to notice, but Liam and Robbie shared a quick look. They said nothing, though.

A tall glass was placed on the small table beside him by a young woman dressed entirely in black, and before he could ask her what it was, she had already blended back into the shadows. He sniffed his glass and he didn't care how unrefined it looked.

Robbie grinned, holding up a glass similar to Jasper's.

'Don't think, just drink,' he said. 'Rich is a bartending genius. He was actually crowned the World's Most Imaginative Bartender in 2014.'

He held up his glass towards the man behind the bar, who smirked back at him. Robbie seemed to want to continue his praise, but Eleanor cut him off.

'You're late.'

Jasper rolled his eyes.

'Traffic.'

He took a sip from his drink. Robbie hadn't been exaggerating. It tasted great. A bit spicy, though.

He looked at her and she stubbornly stared back and again, Liam and Robbie exchanged looks. When it became apparent neither Jasper nor Eleanor were speaking up anytime soon, Liam cleared his throat.

'So, Jasper,' he started awkwardly. 'How have you been? Haven't seen you since...'

'The lunch,' Robbie piped up. 'Now, I heard _that_ was really exciting, wasn't it?'

And Liam rolled his eyes, because _of course, Robert, talking about_ that _uncomfortable event was certainly going to ease the tension in the room._

'Certainly not my finest moment,' Jasper replied flatly, praise the man.

'Neither was it hers,' Robbie grinned, and Eleanor narrowed her eyes at him.

'Either way,' Liam continued, 'it's good to see you, mate –'Robbie snorted '- since with the coronation coming up we've had practically no free time whatsoever. Hopefully after this one is crowned King, things will settle down and we can finally catch up properly.'

'Help him out with the ladies,' Robbie added, 'because if we leave it solely to his charms, Willow will leave his ass sooner than later.'

'I'd encourage her to make it sooner,' he whispered conspiratorially at Jasper behind his hand. When Liam gasped undignified, Robbie laughed and ruffled her little brother's hair.

'I'm joking, kid,' he grinned. 'Just messing with you.'

Liam, childishly, stuck out his tongue at him and grinned back.

'I thought that after the Paris-incident,' Robbie continued to explain, 'he had learned to think with his head instead of his dick, but the shit this lad has gotten himself into after his birthday party… You won't even believe it, Frost.'

He went on a lengthy monologue, describing his brother's stupidity quite colourfully. Jasper listened intently, refusing to look at Eleanor, though he knew, _knew_ , she was already on her third glass of wine since he had entered the bar and her legs were crossed, _uncrossed,_ crossed again, which let him know she was aerated. _Somewhat._

'You're awfully quiet for someone who claims to _need to talk_ ,' Eleanor said suddenly. _And he was right._ Her brothers fell silent immediately.

He raised an eyebrow at her; she glared at him.

'With all due respect, Princess,' he said curtly. 'The _need to talk_ did not include your brothers.'

'Why not?' Eleanor said. 'We keep no secrets.'

'I doubt that,' Jasper said.

Again, Robbie and Liam looked at each other.

'Why do I get the feeling this was not just a social call?' Liam asked.

Robbie nodded, nursing his drink. 'I feel like I've been lured here under false pretences.'

'My sister promised me a nice night out and this just feels way to awkward to be just nice,' Robbie continued. 'Had I known, i wouldn't have come.'

'If there's alcohol involved, you're always willing to come, Rob,' Liam muttered and Robbie grinned, nodding in agreement, throwing back what remained of his drink in one go. He set the empty glass back down and crossed his arms over his chest. Jasper looked at him and it was uncanny, the transformation, because suddenly he could see it. See what the entire nation saw in Robert.

A figure of authority.

A King.

'Now, Eleanor,' Robbie said, his tone imposing and permitting no argument. 'What is going on?'

Even before she opened her mouth, Jasper knew he was fucked.

Completely fucked.

'Nothing special,' she answered sweetly, too sweetly. 'It's just that… Jasper texted me we needed to talk. And I thought it would be so much more fun to do so with my lovely brothers present.'

Robbie raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

'Talk about what?' he asked.

And _fuck, fuck, fuck._ He could still get up, _leave_ , get out of there before she had a chance to continue, but he sat rooted to his chair. Because some sick, twisted part of him, wanted her to say it and fucking get it over with.

 _Atonement_.

'I don't know,' she answered. 'What _did_ you want to talk about, Jasper?'

 _Wicked,_ was the only word that came to mind when he looked at her. But there was something else there, something else in her eyes, which he purposefully chose to ignore, because… _Because._

'Maybe about the fact that -' and she was speaking to Robbie, but looking at him, and ignore, _ignore, ignore,_ because, because _, because, because_ '- he tried to rob me. Maybe he wants to talk about that. Perhaps about him fucking Mother, could be another thing he wants to talk about. Or, I don't know, maybe he wants to talk about blackmailing me into having sex with him.'

 _Or maybe it's about making me fall in love with him and then leaving me when I needed him the most._

'What are you talking about?'

She hadn't yet broken eye contact, but when her brother addressed her, she turned towards him. Robbie was looking at both of them, trying to do so simultaneously and failing miserably. Liam had his head in his hands, rubbing his temples with his thumb, but when Robbie again asked _what the fuck are you talking about, Len?_ and his sister still hadn't answered, Liam looked up and sighed.

'Jasper tried to rob us, blackmailed her and had sex with Mom,' he explained, faintly jaded. 'But he also found dad's killer, kept Len safe when she went on her drug rampage 'round the world and he has been nothing but good to the family after.'

'After?' Robbie repeated. 'After?'

Eleanor had nothing to offer. Just drank her wine, looked at Jasper over the rim of her glass.

'After what?!' Robbie demanded.

And he demanded something that no one could give him, because everything they could say, would sound absolutely ridiculous.

'After everything that happened,' Liam said softly. 'He's been good to us.'

'You mean _after_ he tried to steal from us and fucked Mom and bloody blackmailed our little sister into having sex with him?'

Jasper should've seen it coming, but it was all so graceful and controlled, so anticipated that it became unexpected. Thus his eyes were still on Eleanor when her brother was getting up and he was still trying to read her instead of reading the movements around him.

It wasn't a sucker punch, but he was completely blindsided.

When Robbie's fist first connected with his face, he fell sideward, barely holding himself up. The second punch knocked him straight out of the chair and then Robbie was on him – and Liam was screaming and pulling his brother backward, while Eleanor calmly sipped her wine.

'You're a fucking bastard,' Robbie roared and maybe Eleanor voiced her agreement or perhaps it was just a figment of Jasper's imagination. He hit Robbie in the stomach, not to hurt him, but to get him off, but _he was a fucking bastard_ and Robbie a bloody Prince – almost a King – and when ever did Princes lose to bastards? And for a moment he fancied himself Ramsay and Robbie demure, little Jon Snow. He chuckled and of course Robert didn't like that, but thank the Lord for Liam.

'Robert, you twat,' Liam grunted, 'get off him.'

And it was funny how Richard the Award-Winning Bartender watched and did nothing, just like the guard at the door, the waitress in the shadows and whoever else were there. Jasper wasn't even surprised.

'For fuck's sake,' Liam snarled and then the weight was off Jasper. Both brothers were cursing, Liam loudest, and he told Robbie to 'get your fucking shit together and move to the next room, right now' leaving Jasper and Eleanor alone.

He was still on the floor, eyes closed, fists clenched. Mentally did a check and was pretty sure his eye was going to swell shut tightly. Not yet, though.

When he opened his eyes again, the first he saw were hers.

'Are you okay?' And her voice was so soft he barely heard it, but he held onto it like a lifeline. As he sat up, he never broke eye contact. Neither did she. There was so much emotion there and he couldn't possibly decipher them all, but he _knew._ And it scared him just as much as it scared her.

'Are you?'

Her eyes fluttered shut and she inhaled deeply, and she was so, so beautiful.

'I'm sorry,' she whispered and it was all he needed to hear to propel him forward.

'Eleanor,' he said and he was on his knees in front of her. Debated whether to touch her or not, but decided against it.

'What is it you want from me?' he asked. He looked at her and she looked through him, and for fuck's sake, her brothers wouldn't be long and he _needed_ to know.

'Eleanor,' he urged her. 'Tell me. Please.'

And for someone who claimed he never begged he had been doing a lot of it the past couple of days. His hands were floating, roaming, and the gods damn it all. He pulled himself up between her legs, touched her hands, her arms, her collarbone and eventually cupped her face between his hands.

She inhaled sharply, stiffened, but did not pull away.

'What do you want from me, Eleanor?' and he practically breathed the words into her mouth, because he knew she wasn't drawing breath anymore and he hadn't been thinking straight for a long time now, because whenever he was near her he wanted to give her all that he had. _Everything._

'Tell me.'

And the hoarseness of his voice was nothing compared to the feel of her hand, grabbing a fistful of his shirt, and she wasn't moving and didn't say a word, but he _knew_.

'Eleanor,' he sighed and she opened her mouth, just marginally, and inhaled his breath. Drew it in so deeply, he was almost afraid she would drown in it, the way her eyes widened and bore down on him. Her tongue flicking out to wet her lips. And for fuck's sake, he instantly got hard.

And she _knew._

Her fingers skimmed his cheek, sending a jolt of electricity through his body.

But then there was a sound and her brothers were coming back and she pushed him away, with such force he almost fell down, but he didn't care, because he _knew_ and by the time Liam and Robbie entered the room again and took their places next to Eleanor, Jasper was already back in his seat, holding his cold glass against and glaring at the world like nothing had happened.

'Len,' Robbie barked. 'Get up, we're leaving.'

Jasper looked at her, tried to make eye contact, but already knew she was going to ignore him. She was out the door without a second glance.

'You,' Robbie growled at him and Liam had done a well enough job in calming him down, but the Heir apparent clearly was still angry. 'Tomorrow a car will pick you up at six p.m. and you and I are going for a ride.'

Jasper rolled his eyes, was already deciding in his head who he would bribe to pick up the last two hours of his shift, but still replied, 'Some of us have a job, Your Highness.'

Robbie, who had already been on his way out, turned around swiftly and Liam immediately placed a tight hand on his arm.

'You better be there, Frost,' he growled. 'If you know what's good for you.'

'He will, he will,' Liam was quick to say, earning him a glare from Robbie.

'I'm not finished with you either,' he hissed. Then he spun on his heels and was gone in a flash.

 _One, two, three._

Liam stood by the curtains, looked at Jasper.

 _Four, five._

They looked at each other.

 _Six, seven._

Liam grinned; Jasper snorted.

And then they were both smiling, chuckling, and _bloody_ hell, laughing out loud. It only lasted a couple of seconds, which was enough to embarrass Jasper deeply, so when Liam sat down on the sofa again, shaking his head, still smiling, all Jasper could think was, _the fuck?_

'Did you know she was going to do this?' Liam asked.

Jasper shook his head.

'Did you?' he replied.

But Liam shook his head in denial.

'Your sister is fucking crazy,' Jasper muttered. 'Out of her mind.'

'So are you,' Liam grinned, 'so I guess it's a good fit.'

He cocked his head to the side, took a good look at Jasper's face and smirked.

'You need to put some real ice on that eye,' he said. 'Robbie got you good.'

'I let him,' Jasper grunted.

'Sure, mate,' Liam nodded. 'Whatever you say. I'm going to get you some ice and us some drinks.'

'Shouldn't you go home with Eleanor and your brother?' Jasper asked.

Liam snorted.

'Home?'

'Believe me, Robbie threw Eleanor in the Range Rover and told Baker to drive her back to the palace,' he said. 'Robbie himself is probably still out with one of the other bodyguards, drinking a pint and bitching about the mess I supposedly made of shit while he was bloody dead.'

He grinned, placed a hand on Jasper's shoulder.

'I'd rather stay here with you,' he said, 'practicing my nearly perfect American accent and absolutely _not_ talking about fucking my Mom, stealing jewellery and blackmailing Eleanor.'

He squeezed softly, then went off toward the bar and the moment he turned his back, Jasper grabbed his phone from his back pocket. And maybe he shouldn't, but he didn't give a fuck because he wanted to. And perhaps he thought it was what she wanted him to do.

 _You were just going to let your brother beat me up?_

Almost immediately he could see three dots, her responding to his message.

 _Yes._

More dots.

 _But I knew Liam would interfere._

He smirked, winced when it hurt his mouth. A small cut. He hadn't even noticed.

Couldn't contain his grin despite the pain, when he saw there were still dots. She was still typing.

 _Have fun with Liam and pray they find your body after tomorrow, Jasper from Las Vegas._

She said nothing after that and he knew not how to reply, but there was Liam and there was alcohol and halfway through the night his head started throbbing like a little bitch, but perhaps all of that made it easier to accept.

Because for fuck's sake. He was loath to admit it, but Poppy was right.

He wanted the epic love story. _Everyone_ wanted the epic love story. And he was pretty sure he wanted _this_ epic love story more than _anyone._

Poppy was fucking right.

Curse her.

And curse him for being such a bloody fool.


	8. 7 - Hope

_We're almost there. The next three chapters will be filled with Jasper and Eleanor and then it's over. Really over. I had to tie up some loose ends (like Poppy and for some reason I completely forgot about Robbie's "date" with Jasper). Sorry if this feels like a bit of a filler or repetition, but I needed this to get us to the next part, the final part of this story. As always, thank you for reading!_

* * *

 **Chapter 7. Hope**

He stumbled into Poppy's house a little after four in the morning and she was just getting out of the shower, all ready to go to work. Some sort of emergency had come up and she'd been on call, but when he clumsily staggered through the doorway of her bedroom, she stopped whatever she was doing and she deftly caught him in her arms before he fell face forward to the floor.

He buried his nose in her neck, hot breath breathing words that were barely intelligible. She understood anyway.

 _I love her._

'Jasper,' she murmured soothingly, 'it's okay. It's going to be okay.'

And for fuck's sake, he was _drunk._ Beyond drunk, and she wondered briefly whether this was a male-thing, only being able to admit to feelings when they were intoxicated, but then decided it was simply a Jasper-thing.

Jasper and his _things._ _Things that always revolved around the Princess._

He was heavy, but nothing she wasn't used to, though mostly she bore his weight in different ways, and with a mighty grunt she heaved his deadweight body onto her bed. She pulled off his slacks, pried open his shirt, but chose to leave his boxers on, before she threw a blanket over him.

'Sleep, you moron,' she said affectionately, kissing the side of his head. He murmured something slurred, but she was pretty certain it had something to do with Eleanor. _Since he loved her._ Finally, or perhaps infinitely.

Before she left, she placed a large glass of water and two paracetamols on the nightstand and a note telling him ice cubes were in the fridge – that eye looked like it wasn't going to open anytime soon – and she'd be seeing him when she got off work. She called Jonathan on her way to the office and bullied him into taking over Jasper's shift for the day.

 _True friendship,_ she couldn't help but think wryly.

The first thing Jasper noticed when he woke up, was the bed he was in. It wasn't his. He rolled over on his side, but before he had time to take in his surroundings, a strong surge of nausea accosted him and he scrambled to the edge of the bed.

Just in time, as he vomited over the white sheepskin floor cloth next to the bed.

 _Fuck._

He groaned, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and it hurt like hell. He fell back on his back, deciding it didn't matter whose bed he was in, as long as he could stay here, because he felt like shit and wasn't getting up anytime soon. His spew smelled, not particularly pleasant, but he had not the strength to clean it up at the moment. Later, all later.

Later turned out to be five in the afternoon, when Poppy slammed the front door shut behind her, to let him know she was home, effectively waking him up, still not sure of his surroundings. Until Poppy started yelling.

'The fuck, Frost?!' she exclaimed. 'My cloth, my bed, my fucking bedroom!'

And apparently, in his sleep, he had vomited some more, and for the love of god, he couldn't remember, but he was lying in his own puke and the room reeked of it.

'For fuck's sake,' he groaned. His head was pounding. He never got this drunk. And he certainly never puked, but perhaps it had something to do with receiving punches against the head and consuming copious amounts of alcohol afterwards.

'I leave you alone for half a day and this is what you do?'

Poppy sighed, ran a hand through her hair and then swiftly, in one motion, pulled the blankets off Jasper.

'Out,' she said irately. 'Out of my bed, out of my house. You need to go.'

Apparently, sometime during the few hours she had been out of the house, Jasper had deemed it necessary to remove his boxers.

'And put some fucking clothes on Frost, for Christ's sake.'

She found the pair on the floor and her anger was quick to fade when she chucked it at him, a smirk on her face. He smiled at her apologetically, but she rolled her eyes.

'Seriously, though,' she said. 'You need to get out, for real. Go home, take a shower, try to remember what you did last night and find someone to look at that eye of yours.'

'Can you hand me my pants?' he asked and his voice sounded grating.

Poppy shook her head.

'I'm not coming near nor throwing anything at your spew zone,' she said as she held her nose dramatically. 'The boxers were a one-time-deal. Now move. I need to mourn the loss of my sheep skin cloths and blankets.'

'How did I get-?' he started, but Poppy cut him off.

'Your car isn't outside, you have no wallet with you and I already checked your pockets for money, because I felt like you owed me something for letting you stay, considering the miserable state you were in, so I have no idea how you got here,' she said.

'It's a bit of a blow to every girl's ego when a sexually irresistible fella storms through the door in the middle of the night, spouting love confessions,' she said. 'Love confessions to another girl, might I add. I believe she goes by "Princess"?'

She winked at Jasper and he wasn't _that_ hungover to not see it coming.

'I told you so.'

And there it was.

He grabbed the first thing in sight, a turquoise pillow, and perhaps he had been drooling on it or maybe something more, but that didn't stop him from hurling it at her.

And she screeched bloody murder, because yes, he might've puked on it, and yes, he was bloody disgusting. She permitted him to take a shower before he left and she joined him after a few minutes, but there was nothing sexual about it and it felt nice to have her scrub his back and in return wash her hair.

Afterwards, she ordered him an Uber and waited with him in front of her door, the two of them sharing a fag.

'This is good, you know,' she said.

Jasper looked at her from the corner of his eye, unimpressed.

'I mean,' she grinned. 'Not the black eye, of course. Nor the massive hangover and the killer headache which is surely accompanying the first. Nor the fact that you decided to have a fucking vomit-fest in my bedroom.'

She chuckled.

'But the rest is good.'

She nudged his shoulder and he turned to look at her.

'You're good,' she said. 'Better than before anyway. So it's good.'

He didn't smile, but instead leaned to the side, kissed the top of her head.

'I love you too, Pops,' he said, and he rubbed his cheek against her hair reassuringly.

'I know,' she agreed. 'But just not the way we both wanted you to.'

He had no answer to that.

When he arrived home, a black Range Rover was parked at the beginning of his street and instantly it all came rushing back.

Robbie. Six p.m.

 _Shit._

His front door was unlocked, so he wasn't surprised to find Robbie already sitting in his living room. Not surprised, just slightly annoyed.

'It's considered impolite to enter people's homes without their permission,' he said and maybe he was more than just slightly annoyed. He walked towards his refrigerator and grabbed himself a beer. He would've offered Robbie one, had the man not already helped himself.

'It's also considered impolite to let your Prince wait for more than half an hour,' Robbie countered.

'I'm American, remember,' Jasper said, jaw clenched. 'I don't have a Prince.'

'And you're in the United _Kingdom_ now so it'd be wise for you to shut your mouth.'

They glared at each other, but Jasper backed down first. All he wanted was to crawl into his bed and sleep. He was exhausted, his face hurt, his head was throbbing and he felt like he needed to brush his teeth at least twice more to get the sour taste of vomit out of his mouth.

He didn't think Robert would feel very sorry for him, but he could care less. He was _this_ close to kicking that pompous dick out of his house.

He looked at the bottle of beer in his hand - felt a bit nauseous just _looking_ at it -, set it down on the counter and started preparing a pot of coffee. He hadn't done that in a long time, prepare his own coffee, but right now was a good enough time to start, because Poppy wouldn't be doing it anymore. Not on a regular basis anyway.

 _And the Princess only drinks tea._

'How's the eye?' Robbie asked when he returned to the living room. Jasper deliberately sat across from the Prince to show him. He glared at him for good measure.

'Suits you,' Robbie smirked.

'So,' Robbie started. 'Liam says I ought to apologize to you, which, of course, I am not going to do. Because first of all, I am not sorry and second of all, I am not sorry. I'm surprised no one in the Palace knocked you on your ass sooner.'

'Liam did,' Jasper said and Robbie raised an eyebrow. Apparently the twins hadn't told him that.

'When?' Robbie asked surprised. 'What did you do?'

'When Len told him what she told you.'

Robert took a gulp from his beer, seemingly satisfied and Jasper just hoped all of this wouldn't take too long. The Prince had said something about going for a ride?

'You don't seem to be particularly fit today,' Robbie observed. 'Sporting a similar hangover to Liam?'

'If Liam feels like he's dying, then yes,' Jasper replied. He almost felt like strangling Robert, hide his body in the attic and just go the fuck to sleep, because he was so bloody tired.

'Liam believes he's died and gone to Hell,' Robbie said and his voice irritated Jasper for no sensible reason at all, 'so I reckon you got the better part of the deal.'

And perhaps this was it. Because last night Liam had basically giving his blessing, had told him he knew Poppy wasn't his girlfriend, knew his sister had still feelings for him and suspected – _suspected,_ as if he didn't bloody know – that Jasper also had feelings for her. They had toasted, asked for more cocktails – while Liam loved his Guinness and Jasper considered himself a whiskey sort of bloke – and three glasses in they had been completely shitfaced. It had been entertaining and awful and nauseating and he – _they_ – were still suffering the consequences, but at least it had been honest.

He cared about Eleanor – _loved, loved her_ – and no matter the way, he was getting back into her life, because she had engraved herself completely into his. Liam already knew and after yesterday, there was no doubt she knew too, and this was his chance to let Robbie know. Perhaps his only chance.

Instead he was wasting it, feeling sorry for himself and getting angry at all the wrong people, while all he needed to do was throw his cards on the table.

Just throw his _fucking_ cards on the table.

This was it.

'I love your sister.'

Robbie had been speaking and he had no fucking clue about what, but the moment those words had left his mouth, the Prince fell quiet.

'What?' he asked dumbfounded.

And maybe he _did_ need that beer, Jasper decided, so he walked to the kitchen and got it.

'I love your sister,' he repeated. 'I am in love with your sister. Your sister I love. Whichever way you want to put it.'

He took a sip.

'I fucking love your sister.'

'Is this some sort of long-term con?' Robbie scoffed. 'Blackmail the fool, fuck her mom and then tell her you love her, so you can still escape with the jewellery? Because I don't care about jewels and diamonds and shit. You can have it all if you just leave Eleanor alone.'

He tried to look threateningly, but Jasper wasn't intimidated.

'I can't,' he said genuinely. 'I did that once, leave her alone, after the King's Cup, and now we're here in this shitstorm. And I'm _still_ in love with her. So no, I cannot leave her alone. And there's nothing you can offer me, to make it so.'

'Tell me,' Robbie demanded. 'Tell me from the beginning and leave nothing out, because I swear, as God is my witness, I will bury your body, Jasper Frost, and nobody will ever find you nor care.'

And so he started at the beginning, the very start of it all, and he started talking.

'I was born just outside of Las Vegas…'

He told him everything. His parents, the grifters; the uncertainty; always looking over his shoulder; and eventually his banishment for sleeping with the daughter of the King of the Strip, and if Robbie saw similarities, he wisely kept his mouth shut.

He spoke about Samantha – of _Mandy and selling his soul to the Devil_ – and she had been his only family after that. Had they ever truly believed they were in love? Perhaps he had, but she simply wanted to pull one final con to escape her father, the King.

 _The Koh-I-Noor._

And so he came to England, to Eleanor and into her bed.

He saw Robbie clench and unclench his fists, the tight set of the man's jaw, and he was grateful the Prince did not interrupt him and listened quietly. His body language, however.

'She was going to fire for sleeping with her,' he said softly. 'And then the con would've been over.'

He sighed, rubbed his nose and closed his eyes for a second. He heard Robbie get up, but wasn't threatened by the man's movements, even though he couldn't see them. A moment later Robbie returned, two glasses and a bottle of bourbon in his hand.

'I need something stronger,' he said and his hand was shaking slightly as he poured them both a glass.

'I'm not making up any excuses,' Jasper clarified before he continued, 'but you need to understand how it was for me, growing up with nothing. I was scared to death to go back to that. I couldn't go back there. So I came up with the sextape, told her I had it all on camera and if she fired me, I would release the video. She was already in enough trouble with the King and Helena, so I knew she would agree.'

'I... –'

He swallowed, breathed in deeply.

'Taking advantage of her, having sex with her after that first time, was my own selfishness.'

Robbie said nothing. His knuckles were white.

'This sounds so corny, but it's the truth,' Jasper continued.

Because he got to know her, that's what happens when you spend all of your time together, and the better he got to know her, the closer he wanted to be to her. Until the point where he realized he wanted to be _with_ her.

But their entire relationship had been about control. _Dominance and submission._ He had tried to let her know that perhaps there was more between them, by admitting to not having a sextape, but then she had left for Monaco and he had been so angry. Angry and _hurt,_ but only his anger he knew how to handle.

'I was transferred to Queen Helena and she knew certain things about my past,' Jasper said. 'Things that could've gotten me arrested.'

Robbie scoffed.

'So you decided to shut my mother up by shoving your dick into her mouth. Cute.'

'I didn't do it for the con,' he defended himself. 'I did it because I did not want to leave your sister. I took a chance and hoped she wouldn't find out.'

'You do realize how sick that is?' Robbie questioned. 'Besides, she _did_ find out.'

'She did,' Jasper confirmed. 'And she had me arrested.'

'After the twins were declared illegitimate, I followed her around the world,' Jasper sighed and Robbie muttered, 'Stalker, much', but had a tiny smile on his face. Perhaps Jasper had done _something_ right in his eyes.

'Eventually she returned to the Palace and I thought that was it, but then Liam needed my help.'

And that had been his chance, his _atonement_ , to make up for all his sins. If he found their father's killer, then perhaps she could forgive him. Not take him back, but simply forgive him. Because all he wanted was for her to be happy, whether that was with or without him.

But then Samantha had showed up.

'For fuck's sake,' Robbie exclaimed. 'The con was still running?'

'It wasn't,' Jasper said. 'Not for me, anyway.'

And he still remembered the night of the party, when finally, _fucking finally,_ he had realized how deeply he was in love with the Princess. And that night had also been the last fucking nail on his coffin.

'And still we're sitting here,' Robbie said. 'So either you haven't been buried yet or you have nine fucking lives.'

'I'd settle for one life with her.'

Under any other circumstances they both would've laughed at that clichéd statement, but the truth behind it had their expressions solemn and both their heads heavy.

Or perhaps that was just the hangover.

'What is it you want from my sister now?' Robbie asked.

Jasper rubbed his temples, squared his shoulders. Looked him straight in the eye and bared it all, _bared it all._

Because he wanted a life with her in it. Had tried to escape those feelings because he had been hurt by her dismissal. By her rejection. But hadn't he done the same to her? Hadn't he lied and rejected her time after time after time?

This was his last chance to make it right.

And so he said what truly came to mind.

'Everything.'

For the first time he wasn't ashamed to admit it.

He wanted it all.

 _'_ _As long as she'll have me.'_

* * *

Perhaps this was stupid, Robbie thought to himself. But it felt right. And if she didn't like the idea, was completely opposed to it, he could always cancel it. He was the Prince; he could do whatever he wanted. Still, he was nervous when he knocked on Eleanor's door.

'What do you want?' she sighed, a cigarette dangling from her fingers. She was sitting in her window, a half drunk bottle of wine on the sill. At least she wasn't high.

'I saw your ex-boyfriend today,' he started.

'Ex-bodyguard,' she corrected. 'Did you let him live?'

'Actually, I did,' Robbie said. 'He told me some interesting things. And I thought about it. He helped with Brandon, found our father's killer. Professionally speaking, I think he's a good guy to have around.'

She was in the middle of bringing the bottle to her mouth, but stopped halfway. Turned her head slowly towards Robbie.

'I wanted to let you know first,' he continued, 'since he's not your ex-boyfriend and all that. But I'm thinking of transferring Marcus back to Liam and reinstating Jasper. As my bodyguard.'

'I of course need to speak to Liam and James about it,' he said when she stayed silent, 'but I don't believe they will make a big deal out of it.'

The unspoken question was obvious.

 _Will you?_

'Funny,' Eleanor said scathingly. 'You go from beating him up to offering him a job.'

'Haven't offered it to him yet,' Robbie said, 'but after our talk today, I am certain he will accept.'

He made to leave her room, but then stopped.

'Another thing, Len. I love you, but don't ever again use me to fight your battles. You'll have to face your demons eventually. And whether Jasper Frost is a demon or not, is up to you to decide.'

He blew her a kiss and closed the door behind him.

And there was that stupid feeling again. That feeling she'd had when she'd seen him at her birthday party, when he had followed her to the balcony. That feeling when Poppy told her they were not in a relationship. When he had texted her. Both times.

That feeling she so desperately tried to ignore.

But he was returning to the Palace. He was returning to her life.

And there was that feeling again. It made her feel pathetic for even daring to…

 _Hope._


	9. 8 - Everything

_Almost finished. Phew. Already working on a new story, since my "fantasy" Obliquity is quickly becoming more of a horror of sorts than the epic fantasy thing I initially had in mind. But after re-watching the Game of Thrones finale, listening to Rihanna's Sledgehammer and anxiously awaiting Star Trek Beyond, some weird seed was planted inside of my brain. Not sure if anyone wants to read it, but I'm giving it a go anyway. And in the meantime, there are still two/three Amative chapters to go. Such fun!_

 _I wanted to keep the original chapter 6 and added some. Thought about splitting it in two, but then remembered I promised you all some Jasper & Eleanor interaction, so it wouldn't be fair to do that to you. Also, we've seen Jasper getting his feelings and thoughts straight, but I don't think Eleanor's ready yet to fully admit nor commit to her feelings for him. Not in the way he is, anyway. _

_Still, I hope you will enjoy this chapter, even though some of you will recognize most of it. And yes, it obviously needs editing. But one day, some day, I will get to that._

* * *

 **Chapter 8. Everything**

Two days after their _talk,_ Robbie was banging on his door, bottle of whiskey in one hand and Liam in tow. They barged through the doorway, took seats in the living room like they belonged there and had opened the bottle of 26 years old Glenfiddich before he even had time to close the front door again.

'Sit down,' the Heir apparent ordered and of course, stubbornly, Jasper remained standing. In his own home. Liam grinned knowingly, but he ignored the younger Henstridge. He'd rather stand than take orders from Robert.

'Twice in two days,' Jasper muttered. 'Should I be worried?'

'You tell me,' Robert grinned. He had made himself comfortable on the sofa, holding up the bottle of whiskey.

'Get some glasses, Mr. Frost,' he said. 'It's Friday night and we're going to have a boy's night.'

Jasper shared a look with Liam, but then shrugged and sat down on the armchair. Because he wanted to. Certainly not because Robbie had ordered it.

'I never decline a glass of good whiskey,' Jasper said solemnly, looking Robbie straight in the eye. 'Get some glasses, Liam.'

The younger Prince sighed but dutifully made his way into the kitchen.

'Top cabinet on the right,' Jasper called after him, and Liam returned with three whiskey glasses in hand.

'What are you doing here?' Jasper asked, while Liam filled the glasses. Robert took the first and immediately brought it to his mouth. He sighed content as he downed the contents in one go.

'Robbie!' Liam scolded him. 'This one needs to be savoured. Respect the whiskey.'

As a response Robert took the other glass – 'apologies, Frost,' he said without sounding sincere – and finished it in one shot as well.

'Bloody alcoholic,' Liam muttered, refilling the empty glasses and making sure to slide one towards Jasper before Robert had the chance to grab it again.

He leaned back and grinned.

'I just wanted to see you,' Robbie said and Jasper almost snorted, because honestly, _I just wanted to see you_. Had Eleanor told him?

And Liam smiled. 'Isn't it amazing! My best mate and brother together, drinking whiskey like they weren't just rolling around on the floor less than ninety-six hours ago.'

He clapped them both on the back and Jasper had the distinct suspicion Liam had already been drinking. That, or he was simply an idiot.

Robert scoffed.

'Since when's this one your best mate, then?'

'Since he became my bodyguard,' Liam said defensively. 'So be prepared, because _you_ are next on his best-mates-list.'

And Jasper felt like he was missing a vital part of the conversation, but he didn't really care much for it. He looked at Robert, then at Liam, and was again perplexed by the fact that Liam looked absolutely _nothing_ like both his siblings. Light hair against dark. Smiles against smirks. Enthusiasm versus sarcasm. Liam almost looked like an angel compared to those two devils, Robert and Eleanor.

'Did you know, Jasper,' Liam started, 'that it's less than a month until Robbie's coronation?'

Jasper made a non-committal sound, taking a sip from his whiskey.

'In less than a month he'll have no freedom whatsoever, will be forced to attend utterly boring and stuffy meetings with equally boring and stuffy people, mum will be fully on his back about finding him a wife, probably already has a few potential ones lined up and of course –'

But Robbie held up a finger and shushed him.

'You can stop,' he said. 'I think we all get your point. Besides, I think it's in your favour to stop emphasizing all the redeeming qualities of Kingship. Before you know it, I might abdicate in favour of you. Hashtag King Liam...?'

Liam laughed and held up his hands in defeat.

'Point taken,' he laughed. 'But still. This might be one of Robbie's last nights out of the Palace and I thought it would be nice to spend it with you.'

'For reasons unknown to me,' Robert added dryly, as if he hadn't been the one banging on Jasper's door just a few minutes ago.

And to me,' Jasper added. 'Unless there are plans of giving me another black eye? Then I completely understand.'

He raised an eyebrow at Robbie.

'Eleanor's not here now,' he continued. 'So I can't promise to not fight back.'

'Yeah,' Robbie nodded. 'That would be a fool proof way back into my sister's good graces, beating up her beloved brother.'

'Actually,' Liam exclaimed. 'That might not be such a bad idea.'

He turned to Jasper. 'Robbie's not exactly our sister's most favourite person at the moment.'

'Because you tried to beat me up,' Jasper presumed, and if that was true, it was a good sign, but Robbie shook his head knowingly.

'You'd wish,' the Prince said. 'Unfortunately for you, I'm not in her good graces at the moment because I'm going to offer you a job.'

Jasper stared at him, frowned and turned to Liam. Both brothers were looking at him expectantly, Liam with barely concealed glee, Robbie smug and self-satisfied. And he wondered whether they were shitting him, dangling a bone in his face, only for them to take it back again. But Liam seemed truly excited and Robbie completely bumptious, so it must be true.

'As what?' he asked, feigning disinterest. 'A toilet cleaner?'

He leaned back into the recliner, bringing his glass of whiskey to his mouth. It was a Rare Oak, its taste rich and complex. He let it swirl around in his mouth, before he swallowed. Vanilla and raisins. Overwhelming and deep, but not worth four hundred pounds, though. He didn't think Robbie nor Liam had thought twice before taking it from the cellar beneath the palace.

'He's serious,' Liam said. 'We are serious. Robbie, tell him.'

The silence that followed stretched a bit further than it should've, and Robbie looked thoughtful. Because he _had_ just told Eleanor he wasn't going to fight her battles, but here he was, about to extend an invitation that would not only make Jasper Frost a part of _his_ life, but also part of hers again. Shouldn't she have the right to decide that herself?

But then again, she hadn't opposed. She had said nothing to change his mind, had seemed strangely resigned to her fate and there was a small part of him that had percepted a faint sense of _hope_. Which was absolutely ridiculous, yet maybe it wasn't. Besides, even though she hadn't hidden her discontent, she hadn't explicitly told him to not do it. Coming from Eleanor, that was the same as telling him to actually _do_ it. Passive aggressive and such.

'Liam wants Marcus back because he's an niggardly little shit, so I'm left without a bodyguard,' Robbie eventually started explaining. 'Which suits me just fine, I like my freedom and I cheated death once already, so I doubt there's much _anyone_ can do to me, but the Queen Mother has been nagging me about it constantly and threatens to choose my next bodyguard herself if I don't find replacement before the coronation. And let's be honest, none of our current security personnel is up to par. Except of course Marcus.'

He shot Liam a nasty look and Jasper's lips curled slightly upwards in an amused grimace.

'You, however,' Robert continued, 'might do. Of course there's the risk of you having sexual relations with my mother and I must tell the maids to keep all objects of worth out of your reach and there will be no blackmailing my sister – 'and he almost grunted that last part and his eyes had hardened considerably '- but all in all I think we can have a very pleasant and fruitful relationship. As long as you do whatever the hell I tell you to.'

And for fuck's sake, they were really serious.

'You want me to become your bodyguard?' Jasper repeated.

Robbie looked at his brother, arching an eyebrow.

'Is he daft?'

Liam grinned, leaned forward to refill Jasper's almost empty glass.

'Exactly,' he said, ignoring Robert. 'He wants you to become his bodyguard.'

Jasper's free hand went up to the side of face, the swollen side, and he grinned wryly.

'So first he slams my eye shut and then he wants to employ me?'

'Details, details,' Robert waved his comment away. 'It's in the past. You really need to get over that, Frost, because otherwise it might threaten our working relationship.'

Jasper snorted softly. Ground his teeth together. Because he couldn't. Not like this.

'I can't take the job.'

He surprised not only Liam and Robbie with that answer, but also himself. But he knew he couldn't. He wanted another shot with her, but he couldn't just barge back into her life like that. Doing so would only help push her away from him.

'Oh please,' Robbie scoffed. 'I spoke to Eleanor already. She doesn't mind. And if you don't believe me, you could just ask her.'

Jasper half expected her to walk into the living room then, was already looking in the general direction of the front door and Robbie laughed.

'Are you sure he's not daft?' he asked Liam and both brothers laughed.

He turned back to Jasper.

'I have no doubt you'll say yes,' he said knowingly. 'And until that moment, let's just finish this bottle and entertain ourselves with stories of Liam's many unfortunate encounters with women. Always lively party-fodder.'

'You want to stay here then, in _my_ house, and drink whiskey?' Jasper asked and he wasn't certain whether he was opposed or in favour of that prospect. He'd had no immediate plans for the night and he was unwilling to care too much about their sudden visit, not until later, preferably alone, hopefully ample intoxicated, and ready to really think about Robbie's offer. _And perhaps show Robbie he was wrong to not doubt his answer._

On the other hand, he'd done crazier things than hang out with the Royal brothers. So perhaps he was in favour. Even though his eye still hurt.

But Liam shook his head. He clearly had no intentions of staying inside.

'I want to finish this bottle and then visit one of those places the people go,' he said and by the look on his face he wasn't entirely sure where he wanted to go, as long as they did not end up staying in Jasper's apartment. And in all honesty, Jasper was fine with that. The only person that had frequently visited his home in the past ten, eleven months had been Poppy. He was a private person, and now suddenly there was Robert, here for the _second_ time, and Liam too. It was a bit much.

But he was rolling with it.

'Assuming you can still stand straight after this bottle is finished, you lightweight,' Robert said dryly and then continued to explain what it was Liam wanted, 'by _those_ places _people_ go, he means he wants to go to some shady shithole with bad music, bad lighting and bad beer to experience how the general rabble parties. And by general rabble, I mean plebeians. You know, people like you, Jasper.'

He couldn't even be insulted by Robert's words, suddenly too distracted by how much he sounded like Eleanor – because her pronunciation of rabble had the exact same lilt and Robert's Jasper sounded a bit more – or actually a lot – like _Jaspuh_ than it was supposed to. And he missed her, but would working at the Palace again really be better than this?

'Where _is_ the Princess anyway?' he asked and Robert snorted.

'Not about to walk through your front door anytime soon,' he answered, 'no matter how hard you try.'

And Jasper had an irrational urge to prove him wrong. But he pushed that _competitive_ part of him down. It, among other things, hadn't worked in his favour regarding the Princess.

'I know some place,' he said instead. 'Bad music, bad lighting, good beer, though. And good people, too.'

It was Friday night after all. His mates from work would definitely be at the bar. And perhaps Poppy would be there too. If he brought the Henstridge boys he would certainly get back into her good graces somewhat. Poppy's unhealthy obsession with Liam had quite effortlessly expanded to include Robert as well after the birthday party, so she'd be thrilled. He wanted her to be thrilled. He felt like he owed her, though she had made it clear he didn't owe her anything. In their own twisted way they had ended it well. Perhaps they could've done so without less vomit from his part, but that last shower together had felt somewhat definitive, her scrubbing his back, cleansing him of everything that she was, and him, washing her hair, ridding her of him, because she deserved something fresh and new. And he apparently wanted something from his past, that was just as beautiful as they could've been.

Except Eleanor was better. She would always be better than _anyone_.

'Where's your detail?' he asked, suddenly aware there had been no inconspicuous black Range Rovers parked in his street, nor stone-faced men in suits placed on strategic corners.

' _This_ idiot,' Robert piped up, 'managed to convince _my_ bodyguard Marcus that we'd be quite safe in your company, since apparently to him you are Superman and amazingly good at guarding bodies. Which, might I add, isn't quite as reassuring as Marcus thought it would be.'

'Batman,' Jasper replied, stolid, and Liam laughed, remembering a conversation they had once had.

'Oh yes,' Liam admitted. 'Emotionally constipated and such. Definitely a Batman.'

'Well then, Bruce,' Robert said unimpressed. 'Show us your Batmobile.'

His matte black Audi was no Batmobile, but Liam seemed properly impressed and Robert murmured it would suffice.

They all piled into the car and Liam called shotgun, but was quite violently removed from the front seat by his brother, who, after he had dumped his brother unceremoniously on the tarmac, had the audacity to, with a flick of his hand and an arched eyebrow, make it quite clear that Jasper was supposed to take Liam's seat so he could take place behind the wheel.

Jasper wanted to argue, but instead clenched his jaw and lobbed the car keys at Robert. The Crown Prince's smirk was infuriating, Liam's boyish grin and telling eyes even more so.

When Liam giddily suggested they get a _joint –_ and he said it with such youthful enthusiasm that Jasper couldn't even decline – and Robert happily agreed, saying that Jasper must know _a guy_ , they had to take a detour, because yes, Jasper knew a guy, and sure, why not smoke a joint.

'The pot might not be up to your royal standard,' Jasper said, 'but it's good stuff.'

The _guy_ was Jonathan's and the _pot_ they sometimes smoked after shift had never been bad.

'Only Americans call it pot,' Liam smirked. 'It's just weed, you know.'

And perhaps the _weed_ was a bit stronger than what the brothers were used to, because Liam was already smiling stupidly and Robert's eyes were suspiciously red.

He took that moment to send a quick text to Jonathan, informing him that despite telling him earlier he wanted a quiet night in, he'd be coming to the bar anyway and he'd be bringing two mates. Subtlety required.

He might as well have said nothing, because when they entered the bar and found his mates, there was a whole lot of shouting involved and Jonathan might or might not have pretended to faint straight into the Heir apparent's arms.

Robbie caught him skilfully, praise to him.

They all descended on the Henstridge brothers, boys and girls, and for a second Jasper was embarrassed, but then he noticed how much Robert loved the attention and how Liam was mingling, simply mingling and having fun, and his anxiety settled down.

For some reason they mingled well, his work mates and the Royals they were supposed to keep safe and seeing Robert on the dancefloor, he decided that maybe the music wasn't all that bad and being able to see him at all, meant the lighting certainly wasn't, and the company definitely was good, so Jasper relaxed and just nursed his beer.

Robert was doing some weird sort of boogie with Elisabeth, another co-worker, when Liam came to find him.

'You _see_ ,' Liam smiled, an arm slung around Jasper's shoulder. 'He's not that bad, this brother of mine. I think we can leave the whole Cartizze-ordeal behind us. After all, he let you live after your talk. He might be a bit arrogant and entitled, but aren't we all? '

Jasper looked at Liam unimpressed but they toasted anyway, to arrogance and entitlement, and long, dark hair and challenging smirks, and for fuck's sake, he missed _her._ And would it be so bad to accept Robert's proposal?

'I mean, I miss having you around,' Liam said, 'and so does James and even Lenny, really, she does' – 'I think the whole balcony-incident proves as much,' he added as an afterthought, causing Jasper to cringe – 'and Robbie wouldn't be asking if he didn't agree, because we want you to come back to the Palace. You know, back to working for us. As a bodyguard, not a toilet cleaner.'

Liam grinned. 'Well, might be that Robbie will try to get you to clean the loo because he's a dick, but hey, who else can say they've been the bodyguard of the twins, the Queen Mother and the King? You'll be worshipped.'

'I already worship this man,' Jonathan butted in, having caught the last part of Liam's sentence, also slinging an arm around Jasper's shoulders, effectively trapping him and Liam in a three-way-hug.

'Hanging out with the bloody King and Prince of England,' Jonathan said reverently, shaking his head in disbelief.

'Future King,' Robbie yelled from the dancefloor, but Jonathan dismissed him.

'Bloody hell,' he smirked. 'Bloody, fucking hell. If only Poppy were here.'

At this Liam's smile broadened.

'Poppy?' he asked. 'You know her too, then?'

He clearly hadn't caught up to the fact they were all colleagues.

Jonathan once again pretended a faint as he held his palm against his forehead.

'You know Poppy?' he exclaimed. 'Lord have mercy, my heart cannot take this anymore.'

Jasper forced a laugh, but his heart was racing, because this was Jonathan, and Jonathan had a quick mouth and an even quicker mind, and there were things he didn't want Jonathan to accidentally tell the Prince and there was even more he didn't want Jonathan to find out. And a drunk Liam was a blabbermouth.

Jasper pushed his mate away.

'Be gone, you drunk,' he said. 'Go charm some lady's panties off and leave the Princes alone.'

Jonathan pouted, but when a busty brunette walked by, he was quick to follow her, stumbling slightly as he did so.

'He's so good looking,' Liam mused, sounding almost resigned.

'Very much so,' Robert added, before returning to his conversation with Elisabeth, all boogie'd out.

'If Lenny got eyes on him,' Liam started to say, but he dwindled off as he looked at Jasper.

'Bloke has nothing on you, though,' he was quick to say, but he needn't have bothered, as Jasper wasn't even listening, busying himself with his phone. He hadn't texted her since that night at Cartizze. Now was as good a time as ever.

 _I'm with your brothers._

And whether it was fate or not, she always responded quickly to him.

 _Did Robbie die again?_ she asked and when he said, _no,_ she shot him back a fast, _then I don't care._

He sighed, rubbed the back of his head, and then thought, _fuck it_.

'Shots,' he yelled and it was so unlike him that even Liam paused to look, but then Jonathan was there, brunette forgotten, because there were shots and there were Royal brothers and there was so much more of a story to be had here, then he would ever find between the brunette's breasts.

Jägers were lined up and if only Jasper knew, _if only he remembered what Poppy had told him about her night out with the Princess and the jägers_.

But he didn't, so he downed them and so did Liam, Robert and Jonathan with him, and they were rowdy and loud and dancing, mostly jumping, and it was almost as if Eleanor had never existed. Except, yeah, she was only always in the back of his mind.

'I think I'm going to take the job,' he found himself saying somewhere halfway through the night, thoughts fumbled and straying too often, too fucking often, to Eleanor, and Robert smacked him on the back, not hard enough to be a challenge but maybe too hard to be _just_ friendly.

'I'm glad,' Robert said.

'Are you?' Jasper questioned aloud, but when Robert forced him to take a sip from his bottle – 'I never let anyone drink from my glass nor bottle, so does that answer your question?' – he decided it was fine. He was drunk and perhaps he should think this over some more and yes, he would without a doubt regret it tomorrow, but he was taking the job. Taking it.

He decided to text Eleanor again and that little voice in the back of his head telling him not to, was easily ignored. He was only human. Barely.

 _Liam is drunk._

He wondered whether this was drunk texting or simply attention seeking. Perhaps they were one and the same.

 _So?_

Her replies were quick and he wondered what she was still doing up. On the other hand, it was barely past midnight, so perhaps his – their – current state of inebriation wasn't accurate enough to judge other people by.

 _I think you need to come get him._

Perhaps a bit too forward, but he'd take his chances.

Jonathan pressed another Jäger in his hands, trying to read what was on the screen but Jasper turned his phone away subtly and downed the shot in one go. He knew Jonathan's antics and he was drunk, not stupid. The boy grinned at him knowingly – again – and he could already see the wheels spinning in Jonathan's head. Making up stories. _Stories that always hit too close to home._

'I bet that's not Poppy you're texting,' Jonathan smirked and Jasper raised an eyebrow at him.

'Fuck off,' he said and surprisingly Jonathan did, distracted by Robbie who had gotten his phone out and was showing the group pictures of Liam and him as children, much to everyone's amusement.

 _You're too obvious, Jasper from Las Vegas. I thought you were supposed to be good at this._

 _Tricking people,_ she added, as if he hadn't known what she'd meant.

 _Then again,_ she typed, _you didn't get the diamond._

It felt good to just talk to her like this. It was _something._

 _I'm serious. Liam is really drunk._

He decided to ignore the Koh-I-Noor comment. No need to get into _that_ again.

 _Liam is always drunk,_ was her swift reply, and Jasper snorted. He caught Liam's attention by laughing and the boy quickly snatched the phone from his hands.

'Ooh, look at this,' Liam cooed. 'Texting my sister.'

Jasper had not the energy, or so he told himself, to take back his phone. _Not worth fighting over,_ he made himself believe, when Liam shouted, 'Robbie, let's facetime Lenny from Jasper's phone!'

And that was exactly what they did and for fuck's sake, how his heart was racing.

She answered on the first ring.

'You _are_ drunk,' he could hear her say, surprise tinging her voice, like she hadn't believed him, which she probably hadn't.

'Not drunk,' Liam grinned. 'Just lightly intoxicated. Nothing too bad. And Jasper will keep me safe.'

Now it was her turn to snort and Jasper smirked.

'He does have a tendency to sleep with the bodies he's supposed to guard, so watch your back,' she said. 'Literally.'

Liam shot him a quick glance and whispered into the phone's microphone, 'He can hear you, Len.'

Jasper couldn't hear her reply, but he was certain it wasn't complimentary.

They spoke some more, and Liam could be heard whining, 'I don't want to go home yet', but Eleanor seemed adamant to the point where the younger Prince was petulantly stomping his feet on the floor. Jonathan mimicked him, thinking it was some sort of dance. But then Liam grinned and his eyes shone.

'Let's _all_ go back to the Palace!' And it was the stupidest idea ever, beyond stupid perhaps, but for some weird reason – _alcohol, alcohol, alcohol_ and _Eleanor, Eleanor, Lenl_ – Jasper found himself agreeing with Liam and he was ready to shout his approval of the idea.

'No!'

It wasn't Eleanor's voice and Liam suddenly smiled even wider than before.

'Willow! My love,' he exclaimed, but his girlfriend ignored him.

'No, no, no,' she repeated, ignoring his fond declaration. 'You are drunk and you are not going anywhere. Stay right there. We are coming to get you. Somebody, send us the location!'

And Jasper could hear Eleanor in the background protesting, shouting something along the lines of 'We bloody hell aren't', but Jonathan had already made a pass for Jasper's phone and was now on the other side of the bar, showing his perfectly straight and perfectly white teeth at the frontal camera and was most likely giving Willow directions to the bar which were far too accurate and way too detailed for someone who was supposed to be as drunk as Jonathan posed to be.

'I still think he's too handsome,' Liam muttered, standing next to Jasper and his brother.

'Here,' Robbie said, sliding another bottle of Heineken Liam's way. 'Have another drink. You'll need it. I'm pretty sure Willow will forget all about you the moment she sees that bloke in real life. You might have a title, but he has _everything_.'

Jasper laughed.

'Wouldn't be laughing if I were you, bodyguard,' Robbie smirked. 'You have nothing and you're not nearly as good-looking as him. Eleanor might just shag him, just to get one over you.'

Liam bristled, elbowing Robbie in the ribs.

'This is why you have no friends,' the youngest Prince said. 'You're mean.'

'I can be your friend,' Jonathan butted in, handing Jasper back his phone. 'Everybody always says I'm mean too and we're both ridiculously attractive, so it only makes sense.'

They high-fived and Jasper, for just a moment, foresaw the downfall of the British monarchy, because for fuck's sake, it seemed like both Henstridge brothers were idiots, but then he remembered Cartizze and the sensible talk he and Robbie had afterwards and perhaps there was hope yet. Who cared anyway? Eleanor was coming, _coming here,_ and he was hopelessly drunk and simply the thought of seeing her had his dick twitching in his pants and this was _so_ going to be worse than a car crash.

'Jonathan,' he called out because it was the only sensible thing to do in the face of disaster. 'More shots!'

They arrived in a whirlwind of ooh's and aah's, because two Princes, that was fine, but the Princess too? No one was prepared, Jasper least of all.

She arched a mocking eyebrow when she saw him, sitting in a corner, brooding over his beer, because what was he going to do when she got here, and for fuck's sake, _she was already there._

'Nice eye,' she commented as she passed him, all smiles and dimples, as Jonathan – of course, Jonathan, acting like they were old mates that went way back – introduced her to the group. Liam was being fussed over by Willow, but it didn't take a genius to see that neither she nor the Princess were completely sober either.

'That went well,' Robbie whispered in passing, being pulled onto the dancefloor again by Elisabeth, who sometime in the past hour had shed her navy blue woollen dress and was now jumping around in what Jasper was certain was some sort of undergarment. Robbie seemed to love it, though.

He watched for a couple of minutes, but his eyes strayed too fast and too easily to the female Henstridge. Jonathan was still by her side, an arm slung casually around her shoulders, except it wasn't nearly as casual as it looked because this was Jonathan and Jonathan never did _anything_ casually.

He pushed himself up, started walking towards them, but before he could reach them, the Princess had already pulled Jonathan along, to the other side of the dancefloor, and was she looking at him over her shoulder?

When she did it again, barely ten minutes later, when Jasper tried to approach her and Willow, he smirked at her, an eyebrow arched. She was ignoring him, had acknowledged him when she and Willow had entered, but now she was looking straight through him. And he recognized it for what it was; a _challenge._

And he was too far gone to even think about what he looked like, following her around. It wasn't a big pub, but big enough for him to do so without attracting too much attention. But he knew she was aware, casting glances over her shoulder, coy smirks and unimpressed arched eyebrows. She fucking loved every moment of it and he wondered whether this was just a one-time thing or the beginning of _something._

He cornered her at the slot machine, in a dark enough nook to the side of the bar which was obscured from view mostly by the slot and half a wall. She did not acknowledge him, but of course she didn't. She was casually throwing coins in the machine but she had no idea how to work it and it was amusing to watch her randomly punching buttons. He moved behind her, one hand nonchalantly resting on the machine and he could feel the hairs on her arm stand up straight. The heat coming from her body. Still, she ignored him.

The reels spun one last time and then the machine lighted up. Not because she won, though. She was out of credit.

She didn't turn around, but he knew she was waiting.

'We still need to talk, Princess,' he said. His breath fanned over her bare shoulder and she suppressed a shiver.

'And you think this is the right time and place?' she replied cuttingly, but there was no real bite to it.

He shrugged and she felt the movement through her entire body.

'We need to start somewhere,' he said. The alcohol made him bold as he stepped closer to her, pressed the entire length of him against her back. Trailed his hand, previously on the machine, up her arm, amplifying the goose bumps already there. Rested his hand in the hollow of her throat. It was strangely intimate and so, _so_ provocative and this time she did shudder.

He pressed closer.

'This is your idea of talking?' she asked, prided herself on sounding unaffected, but for fuck's sake, she knew her nipples were already rock hard and _what else_?

'I could tell you I am sorry,' he murmured and to her it almost sounded like a purr. 'But I don't think that's what you want to hear.'

'It's not,' she agreed. 'But it would be a start.'

Her voice faltered at the end of her sentence, as he pushed her hair away from her shoulder, pressing a light kiss to the exposed skin.

'I could tell you I missed you,' he said, his lips not leaving her, imprinting the words into her skin. 'But I think you already know that.'

She turned her head to the side, baring more of her neck to him and he took her silent invitation. He placed a flat hand beneath her chin, gently yet firmly pushing her head back. Bit down hard, then kissed the exact same spot and she mewled, refusing to gasp out loud. She unconsciously arched into him, provoking a response from his already twitching dick. His jaw tightened and the fingers of his free hand dug into her hip, kneading, finding the waistband of her shorts.

'Just so you know,' his breath was hot on her ear, 'I _am_ sorry and I _did_ miss you.'

Hooked a finger inside the band, tightened his hold on her throat. She went rigid, her breathing guttural, and he pressed his hips forward.

'Jasper.' It was more of a moan than anything else, causing him to smirk, hooking one finger inside her panties.

'Stop,' and he didn't hear her the first time, because her voice was hoarse and his tongue was on her throat and for fuck's sake, 'Jasper, stop!'

He blinked, confused, and she pushed him off her, turned around.

'Please don't,' she whispered, and she pulled her hair forward, shielding her face. But he had already seen the emotions there, seen her uncertainty, her worry and her _embarrassment,_ and she tried to hide it from him. Had to. Because she was scared. And he _knew._

'Eleanor, I-' he said, stepping forward, but she cut him off.

'You wouldn't want Robbie to give you another black eye,' she smirked, 'for feeling up his little sister in public.'

But he saw right through her façade and he had fucked up. _Again._ He didn't follow when she walked away from him, because he knew she didn't want him to. Instead he watched for a while, mingling with his colleagues, looking for all means like she belonged there. She hit Robbie against the head when he whispered something in her ear that obviously didn't sit well with her and when Jonathan made a move at her, she swiftly stepped to the side and engrossed herself in conversation with Willow and Elisabeth.

She was doing fine and she certainly didn't need him. But he needed her and he had never pretended to be anything but selfish. He ran a hand through his hair, debated whether or not to get another drink and he knew it wasn't wise, but he was already walking towards the bar and apparently ordering a Scotch neat, and with the glass already in his hand, he had no choice but to drink it.

 _Or so he told himself._

He had just ordered another Scotch, when he saw her move from the corner of his eyes. Saw Eleanor disentangle herself from both Willow and Elisabeth, who both kept on dancing wildly, and make her way towards the loos. He hesitated only a second, perhaps even less. Chucked back the contents of his glass and followed her.

It almost felt like the night of the birthday party, following her onto the balcony, except it wasn't the birthday party because instead of running away he was running to her now.

She never locked the bathroom door, not in the Palace and not out of it, and he was glad for it as he slipped inside, locking it behind him. She turned around immediately, eyes wide and posture defensive, and she didn't relax when she realized it was him.

'Go away, Jasper,' she muttered, ignoring him.

But he wasn't easily deterred, not now, not anymore, and he stepped forward determined. She turned halfway during his approach, hearing him move, raised an eyebrow at him, _daring him_.

But he cupped her face between his hands anyway, gently, and there was so much he wanted to say. _Needed to say._ But for now it only mattered he said the right things.

'I'm sorry,' he began, and she pulled away from him, but he had a secure grip on her. 'I'm sorry for not understanding what you needed from me. I'm sorry for letting you push me away. I'm sorry for not hearing what you were trying to tell me.'

He remembered her hand in his, the day of the King's Cup, and he knew she did too, because her eyes were glossy and her lip was quivering. Her ran his thumb over her lips, resting his head against hers.

'I'm sorry,' he breathed. 'But I'm here now. And I love-'

And her lips were on his, uncontrolled, unrestrained, and she pushed him back, back and back, kissing him feverishly – he could already feel his lips bruising - until he felt the granite of the bathroom counter digging into his back. Even then she kept pushing and her tongue was in his mouth and her hands in his hair and _fuck,_ just fuck.

She felt so good in his arms, and she was either his curse or his blessing, because, running his hands under her shirt, up her sides, back down her spine, cupping her ass, for fuck's sake, he knew she would be the dead of him.

And perhaps this was all about dominance and submission again, but at this point he was beyond caring. He needed her to know he was yielding to her, _surrendering._

He lifted her up, his fingers digging painfully into the soft flesh of her ass and she hissed into his mouth, bit down on his bottom his lip menacingly. He set her down on the bathroom counter with a bit more force than was necessary and she cried out, but then his fingers were pinching her erect nipples and she moaned, pulling him closer by his hair, locking her legs around him. He pressed forward, forcing her to lean back, and he pulled her shirt over her head. The moment her shirt was off he stared at her, licked his lips. Because he _had_ missed her. And he wanted her to know.

'Don't,' she whispered and he kissed her, slow and deep. One hand on her breast, the other deeply buried in her hair. His fingers glided over her nipples and he bend to kiss where his fingers had just been. She arched into him and he took her breast into his mouth, while his hand explored lower, rubbing circles on the sensitive skin of her inner thigh.

She clenched her jaw, refusing to make a sound, but a moan escaped her anyway as he flicked his tongue over her nipple. His other hand worked on unzipping her shorts and though her body was tense, she helped him pull them down.

He kissed her belly button, nuzzled her flat stomach, and both his hands were on her thighs, pushing her legs fully open.

Her eyes were wide and she shook her head, but he pressed a hard kiss against her core, looking at her, as his tongue flicked out at her tentatively, and she closed her eyes, threw her head back. He teased her with a finger, ran his tongue over her clit, and then her hands were in his hair and she was telling him ' _more_ ' and all he could do was oblige.

He circled her clit with his tongue, teased her briefly before putting his mouth over it. He pressed one finger, two fingers inside, as he sucked gently and her hands fisted in his hair as her back arched and she almost hit her head on the bathroom mirror. Teasing and flicking, his fingers working delicately, and he looked at her and felt the need building and for fuck's sake, she was beautiful, all high strung and almost on the brink of, all because of _him._

The way she moaned his name when she came, almost sent him straight over the edge too.

He held her as she went limp, kissed the corners of her mouth and her nose, kissed her eyelids and her forehead, and as her breathing returned to normal, he kissed her on the lips. She held him tightly against her, three, four, _five_ seconds, but then she pushed him away softly.

'My shirt,' she said, and he got it for her, as she wriggled back into her shorts. She threw water in her face, took a couple of deep swallows, before she turned around to face him.

'Eleanor,' he started, but she shook her head. She reached around him for the locked door, unlocked it with a simple flick of her hand.

'I don't want to talk,' she said. 'Not right now.'

His fingers closed around her wrist.

'Now is as good as ever,' he said, but she scoffed.

'You're drunk,' she hissed. 'This –' and she gestured wildly with her free hand, her eyes ferocious '- is proof enough of that.'

And she was taking this completely the wrong way, _because._

'I know exactly what I'm doing, Len,' he murmured lowly, stepping closer to her. 'And I know exactly what I want, who I want.'

In the back of his mind he knew _want_ wasn't the right word to use, but he wanted and he longed for, and he needed and he loved, and how the hell was he supposed to tell her all of that in a dingy bathroom stall where he had just gone down on her because he had wanted to show her something she wasn't understanding _at all._

 _Surrender. I surrender to you._

'Come home with me,' he said softly, his fingers entwined with hers, but only loosely. It was her decision to make. He wasn't going to force her.

She looked back towards her brothers, Willow and the others, then at him. Stood in the doorway, indecisiveness on her face. And that same fear from before was still there, making him wonder how he had never seen it before. She took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly.

'Fine,' she said, closing her fingers tightly around his. They were out the door in a flash and no one saw them leave. He offered her his hoodie to pull over her head and he hailed them a black cab. He wasn't fit to drive and Robbie still had his car keys anyway. She said nothing the entire ride to his house and he was glad he didn't live far away. For some reason he thought she might change her mind had taken too long. She hadn't let go of his hand, though.

He paid the cab driver, gave him a hefty tip. The man nodded knowingly, tipped his hat when he drove away.

She was waiting patiently for him in front of his door and when he turned the lock, she followed him inside timidly. She leaned against the front door, pushing it closed with her weight, and looked at him. And she knew he was drunk and they shouldn't be doing this. Because tomorrow he would regret this and so would she, for entirely different reasons, though, and it would only make everything worse.

Because he had almost told her he loved her, which she was almost certain he didn't.

 _But what if he did?_

And for fuck's sake, she hated this pathetic, little girl he had reduced her to. A girl with _hope._ Against better judgement. A girl who missed a man that left her.

It wasn't blatantly obvious to a stranger, but Eleanor _knew_ him and there were little tells. The half smirk on his face, his slightly glossed over eyes. And he might've wanted to tell her her loved her, but there was only lust left now.

She had already made a choice by coming here. And she was willingly going to let him break her heart all over again. The least she could do was enjoy it.

She placed a hand in the back of his neck, pulled him down and forward. He came willingly and the moment her lips touched his, he had her flat up against the door, his long and hard body covering hers completely. His swollen dick was pressing into her stomach, and she rolled her hips, tugging on his earlobe.

'This means nothing,' she whispered into his neck, her tongue following the sharp trail of his jaw, as her fingers were frenetically working on the buttons of his pants.

'Nothing,' he agreed.

 _Everything,_ she wished, as he slipped one finger inside of her.

 _Everything,_ he thought, as he took her against his front door.


	10. 9 - Eyes fluttering closed

_Apologies for taking so damn long to write this sad excuse of a chapter. I'm not looking back, this chapter has never happened, we'll just continue to the good stuff in chapter 10 and we'll wrap it up. Yep, best course of action._

 _Thank you all for sticking with me (:_

* * *

 **Chapter 9. Eyes fluttering closed**

She was gone the next morning.

The sunlight seeping through the windows woke him up. He sighed content, stretched languidly, and then turned around. The moment his hand hit the empty spot beside him, his eyes shot open. The bed was still warm and he groaned, shot out of bed immediately. His legs were tangled in the sheets and he stumbled, struggled for a bit, but managed to free himself before falling to the floor.

'Eleanor,' he called out.

Scrambled for the front door.

But she was gone, truly gone, and he should've known better.

After all, she had said it meant _nothing_.

* * *

It was a little after two in the afternoon when Robbie knocked on her bedroom door. She was lying face down in her bed, still in the same clothes from the night before. She had thrown her phone into a corner, because Jasper had been calling her, had started texting her, probably the moment he had discovered her gone, and she didn't want to talk to him. Didn't want to listen to his pathetic excuses. She could already imagine how that would go.

 _I'm sorry, Eleanor._

 _I was drunk._

 _We shouldn't have done this._

 _I didn't want to hurt you._

And whatever other bollocks he'd come up with. She knew she'd done this to herself – and for fuck's sake, why couldn't she think with her brain instead of her fanny whenever Jasper Frost was concerned – but that didn't mean she had to like it. _Everybody_ knew she was a bloody fool.

'What?' she snapped when Robbie knocked again, insistently.

'Open up, Len!' he called through the door and she rolled her eyes.

'One second,' she called back. And she made him wait at least five minutes, because she had to fix her make-up first – not because she had been crying, absolutely not, she wouldn't give Jasper Frost nor her brother the pleasure, but _maybe_ she had – and change into something more comfortable than sticky shorts and a barely there top.

He waited patiently, stood leaning against the doorframe, posture relaxed, when she eventually unlocked her bedroom door to let him in.

'Took you long enough,' he said, stepping past her into her room. If he saw the slight tear streaks still lingering on her cheeks, he ignored them and she wasn't about to draw attention to them.

'You were home late this morning,' he said once he sat down on her chaise, one eyebrow raised pointedly.

She scoffed, mimicked his expression. He had already given her an entirely too knowing look – coupled with an _infuriating_ smirk - when she had snuck back into the palace again slightly after sunrise. There was no need to talk about it now.

Yes, she had slept with Jasper again. And yes, she knew she was an idiot. Conversation over. She'd just wallow in her own misery and pretend to be over him. And for fuck's sake, she hoped that in another ten months her twin wouldn't again invite him to their birthday party, because that might as well become a repeat of this year's hellhole. She was only able to pretend up to a certain point. And that point was much easier avoided when he wasn't around.

But then she remembered and she groaned. _Robert had offered him a fucking job._

Robbie's expression morphed from smug to confused, as he took in her defensive and resigned stance.

'Lenny,' he said. 'Something's wrong?'

Something's wrong?' she cried out. 'Something's bloody wrong?'

And she grabbed the object nearest her, a glass decanter, and threw at him. _Screamed._

'Everything's fucking wrong, you bloody moron,' she yelled. Her hand found one of the crystal glasses on her table and she threw this as well. It missed Robbie's head by mere inches and he cursed.

'For fuck's sake, Eleanor,' he exclaimed, but she was on a roll now, sending everything, _anything,_ she could get her hands on his way. Most of it missed, but the fern grazed his ear and he barely dodged the stool she hurled at him.

'Calm the fuck down, Len,' he grunted, making a pass at her, grabbing her arms before she could get her hands on another object.

'I hate you, Robert,' she hissed, kicking at him. 'I hate you, I hate you, I _hate_ you!'

She seemed sober, so it wasn't the drugs and she couldn't still be drunk from last night. Robert frowned, shook her, his hands tightly wrapped around her upper arms.

'Calm down,' he repeated. 'What is going on with you?'

And all power seemed to leave her as she slumped down, her face buried in his chest. He sank to the floor with her, his arms still around her, his fingers hooking together behind her back. This was his baby _sister_ and even though she had almost murdered him by stool, he couldn't even be mad at her. Not when she was obviously not okay. He would've thought Jasper sticking his John Thomas up her chuff, would've made Eleanor feel instantly better, but apparently he had been sorely mistaken.

'What's up, Len?' he asked softly and she whimpered into his shirt. Sniffed softly.

'I slept with him,' she started and he almost had to laugh, because _that_ much he had deduced. He wasn't entirely too sure he had forgiven Jasper for past transgressions, but Liam had ensured him that the man was _good people_ and yeah, if there was one thing Robbie _was_ certain about, Jasper being head over heels in love with his sister, was _it._

Did she think he'd be mad at her, for sleeping with him?

'I fucking slept with him,' she repeated. He ran a hand through her hair, nodded, his cheek against hers and hugged her closer.

'And he was drunk,' she said. 'So drunk. And I still slept with him.'

And he understood.

'Are you afraid he'll have forgotten, come morning?' he asked.

But she snorted, shook her head.

'I'm afraid he'll remember,' she said softly. And the wheels started spinning in Robbie's head.

Eleanor sighed defeated. She started wiggling out of her brother's embrace, sliding away from him to rest her back against the sofa. Her hands were flat on the carpet.

'You spoke to him, Rob,' she said. 'You know what I mean.'

Stretched her arm to grab the pack of fags from the table. Lit one and took a long, deep drag.

'He didn't even have to blackmail me for it this time,' she said and she sounded repulsed at her own actions.

'I just willingly gave it all to Jasper, the grifter from Las Vegas, who came here to rob me blind and stole with my heart instead.'

Robbie stared at her, quietly, and it only took her half a second to realize his silence wasn't right.

'What?' she snapped, but Robbie only shook his head. Bend a knee and rested his cheek on it, turning his head so he could properly look at her. See the dark bags beneath her eyes and the wild state of her hair.

'Have you even slept?' he asked. 'Properly?'

'What?' she replied scathingly. 'In between letting him fuck me against his front door, fleeing his house and entertaining _you_ , you mean?'

He raised an eyebrow at her and she sighed, let her head fall back against his shoulder as she scooted closer again.

'What's wrong with me, Rob?' she said softly, her voice hardly above a whisper.

And it made Robert's heart clench. Little sister and all that crap. He had vowed not to fight her battles for her, but he still wanted to see her happy. She seemed far from it and for some reason he felt faintly guilty.

'I thought it was a trade,' Robbie said carefully.

She scoffed.

'My heart for his apathy?' she asked.

'He's anything but apathetic towards you, Len,' Robbie said. 'You know this. The least you can do is admit that to yourself. How else can I help you?'

'I know nothing,' she hissed. 'And neither do you.

'Jasper Frost is a con man who conned me out of my heart and is never going to give it back. He's a liar who made me believe he had feelings for me, while all he wanted was the Koh-I-Noor. He's a fool that I cannot seem to forget or _get over_ for that matter and you offering him a fucking job is _not_ helping me.'

'You _know_ he pretended to have a girlfriend,' she said, 'when he came to my birthday party. Because that's how much he likes to fuck with my head.'

'Yet you still fucked him on the balcony,' Robbie shot back and Eleanor offered a subdued 'almost'. 'Even _with_ a girlfriend he still fucked _you_ on the balcony.'

But Eleanor shook her head. She was loath to admit it, but she had been willing to go there. He hadn't.

'Besides,' Robbie continued. 'Poppy is _not_ his girlfriend. So what is the problem?'

'The problem is that he doesn't fucking care,' she shouted and her chest was heaving with unspilled emotion and embittered frustration.

 _He bloody didn't care._

Jasper Frost did not give a fuck.

She knew it well enough and it was _killing_ her.

'And I care too much.'

Robbie almost didn't hear her.

Silence fell between them and it stretched out for far too long.

'He does, though,' Robbie murmured eventually. 'He does care. An awful lot more than you seem to give him credit for.'

'He does not,' she snapped. 'He would've never fucked the Queen, your mother, _my bloody mother_ , if he did. Wouldn't have tried to rob me. Would've protected me from Mandy. Or Samantha. Whatever the fuck her name was.'

And maybe she was shouting now or maybe she had been all along.

'If he cared, he wouldn't have _left_ me,' she spat. 'He should have stayed. Would have stayed. Had he cared.'

She knew she had asked him to leave, not once, not twice, but multiple times and he had never done so. That he chose to follow her command, right when she needed him the most, had just showed her which she had always suspected.

'Jasper Frost does not care about me nor you or anyone of us for that matter,' she told Robbie softly. 'He only cares about himself. The sooner you realise that, the better.'

'Why the bloody hell did you even offer him a job?' she groaned. 'Do you _want_ him to rob us? Or are you so invested in Mum's sex life?'

He flicked her against the ear and she bristled. He didn't let her get up, though, had a strong arm around her shoulders. Instead, he cupped her cheek, forcing her to look at him. She did so reluctantly, avoiding his eyes.

'Look at me,' he urged her.

She scrunched up her nose, persistently kept her gaze focused on the door. Her eyes were glassy and with his thumb wiped away a tears, threatening to escape. She was so stubborn, his sister, hard-headed as a pig and equally as ignorant at times. _Especially when Jasper Frost was concerned._

When she eventually looked at him, met his eyes unflinchingly, he smiled at her.

'I did it for you,' he told her. 'Offered him a job because of you.'

'Your heart for his,' he said. 'Because yours is not the only one lost.'

'I might not know him all that well. Not yet anyway. And he did royally screw us all over. Not just you. But I like the man. And I wouldn't have hired him as my bodyguard, if I hadn't been absolutely certain that that man is one hundred percent, desperately and self-denyingly in love with you.'

'I thought you knew this.'

He really did. Robert had never expected his _sister_ , of all people, to be this dense.

'I thought that was why you brought me and Liam with, when you went to meet him at Cartizze.'

Because that would've made perfect sense. And it was such an Eleanor-thing to do.

'I thought you wanted to punish him first, for what he had done to you, before you took him back.'

'I thought you _knew,_ Len.'

Took a deep breath, but continued unforgivingly.

'You _should've_ known, Len, if you claim to care about him.'

She stared at him, the only sound between them her breathing. Her chest rose and fell – up, down, up. One silent sob and three deep breaths.

'I _don't_ know, Robert. I know nothing. And so do you.'

Another deep drag from her cigarette.

'Now get the fuck out of my room.'

Her tone brokered no argument, not that Robbie would offer one anyway.

She did her best to avoid him, the days that followed, but despite the Palace being large, it seemed too small for the two of them. He seemed to be there, every corner she rounded. And blatantly turning on her heels whenever she spotted him and walking the other way was becoming ridiculous. But she couldn't deal with the look in his eyes, the pity and worry whenever he looked at her. And she didn't _want_ to admit, admit to herself that there was truth to what Robbie had told her.

It was easier to just _ignore_.

Until one morning, _he_ was just there.

And she should have been better prepared, because Robbie had offered him a job as his bodyguard. Eleanor just hadn't expected it to be this soon. Not before she had figured out this whole situation. _On her own._

But here he was, standing in the dining room, looking for all purposes like he hadn't ever left and simply belonged there. Speaking freely with her twin and eldest brother, while Helena watched them sharply from the side, Rachel next to her. Eleanor prided herself for not hesitating when she saw him. Even though her heart skipped a beat and she was certain she must've paled.

They had obviously been waiting for her, as Marcus and Jasper retreated to the sides of the room, her own bodyguard joining them. She spared all three of them no glance as she sat down.

'Good of you to join us, daughter,' Helena said prickly, a sharp eyebrow raised.

Eleanor rolled her eyes at her and shrugged.

'Let's just eat,' she said.

She'd liked to say that dinner was an entirely uneventful affair, but as Liam and Helena did most of the talking – _completely_ _uninteresting_ shit about the coronation Eleanor was _completely_ _indifferent_ to – Robbie kept giving her looks – or rather kept looking knowingly in her general direction but definitely not _at_ her – and with every bite she took she could feel _his_ eyes practically burning holes in the back of her head.

'Oh, for fuck's sake,' she snapped halfway through the main course, dropping her cutlery on her plate. 'What?!'

Robert adopted a look of innocence and Liam feigned ignorance, but her mother was not as kind.

'Robert is making googly eyes at _your_ bodyguard, dear,' she said, without looking up from her plate. 'Not Baker, mind you, but the _other_ one. You know, the one you have _feelings_ for.'

'You mean the one _you_ used to fuck?' Eleanor barked and she had no idea where the venom in her voice was coming from, but first Robert and now her _mother_?

'Len,' Liam cried out, just as Robert made to berate her, but she flattened her hands on the table with force.

'No,' she said. 'Stop. Just-'

She grabbed a bottle of wine from the table. A sense of déjà vu crept over her – Liam, Poppy, _Jasper_ – but she pushed the feeling away.

 _Feelings_. She most certainly did not have _feelings_ for the bodyguard.

Except he was so much more than _just_ the bodyguard.

'I apologise, Mother,' she said and the words didn't sound half as insincere as they felt. 'I shouldn't have said that. May I be excused?'

She did not wait for her mother to answer, just pushed back her chair and was out of the room before any had a chance to respond. She heard it though, as she rushed through the doors. Heard it loud and clear.

'Eleanor. Wait.'

Helena had an eyebrow raised as she bolted from the room, her _brother's_ bodyguard quick on her heels, but Robbie almost smirked and Liam didn't even bother to hide his grin.

Fucking _traitors_.

'Eleanor,' he called after her. But she didn't turn around, just took the fastest route she knew back to her room. And of course he would follow, because that was just what the stupid prick did, follow her around and bloody _not_ leave her alone, and for _fuck's_ sake.

'Eleanor!' Again.

And this time she slowed down, did not wait, just slowed down, until he caught up with her, and then she picked up her pace again. He could easily keep up with her now, made sure to stay a couple of steps behind her, but he knew she wanted him to follow her, even though she wasn't completely aware herself.

Or maybe she was.

She pushed the doors to her bedroom open, awfully slow, and waited for him to walk inside before she slammed them shut again. Locked them.

He stood in the centre of her room, his back towards her, but when he started to turn, she stopped him.

'Sit down, Jasper,' she ordered tersely.

She was surprised when he actually did what she said. Fucking bag of surprises. He sat his bloody fine ass down on her bed, on _his side_ of the bed. And they both bloody well knew it. She took her stance near the window and the open panes offered her a quick escape.

She wasn't above climbing down the walls, swinging from plant to plant like a modern day Tarzan, if what whatever she was about to do blew up in her face.

Or throw him out, face first.

He was gorgeous, really gorgeous. Everything a girl could dream of. But she wasn't just a girl. She was a _princess. The_ princess. And he didn't care. It was time she got it through her thick skull. He didn't care. She just needed to hear him say it.

Just once.

Pull the band aid off, open up that wound again, because he did not care and once she made him say it, she could start to heal. End of story.

Pushing him out of the window was just an added bonus.

'Just once, Jasper. Tell me everything. Just tell me the truth. For once.'

His stare was so intense it made the tiny hairs on her arms stand up, made the back of her neck tingle. The fall and rise of his chest was almost as irate as hers was, his back still straight and his stance proud.

Defiant almost.

When did he even stand up again?

But his eyes.

Somehow she knew, just _knew_ , that maybe this time he wouldn't lie. Would finally tell her the truth. And it scared her how much she'd been aching it. Frightened her how anxious she was as she watched him take a breath, a deep one. Preparing to speak.

Then another breath, slower than the first, deeper even.

'I love you.'

For fuck's sake.

It wasn't what she had meant, hadn't been expecting those three damned words, but this was bloody _Jasper Frost._ She had asked for truth and tell-all, and this was the reality he chose to give her.

He _always_ knew what she wanted. No, what she _needed_. So yeah, it may not have been what she had meant nor wanted, but for fuck's sake, she needed to hear it.

'I _love_ you,' he repeated, and there was nothing hesitant nor careful about it. He stated it as a fact, simple and true, and she so bloody badly wanted to believe him.

He stepped closer and she let him. Hadn't the strength nor the will to stop him.

She was tired.

 _Tired._

He rested his hands on her arms, rubbing circles with his thumb gently.

'I love you.'

And she felt herself leaning towards him, felt one of his hands running up her arm, the other dropping slowly to her hip. He placed one on the back of her neck, pulling her closer still and there was a stiffness to her body as he traced her spine with a finger, a hardness that he had created but she had kept it firmly in place these past months.

'I love you. And I'm not leaving. Not ever again.'

She loved him. This she had known for a while now. She had even tasted the words in her mouth, knew the bittersweet tang they left on her tongue. She loved him.

'I'll always be here,' he whispered. 'Because I love you. Only you. Always you.'

With his arms wrapped around her tightly, lost in his warmth and his body shivering against her rigid one, perhaps she could start to entertain the fact that maybe – _just maybe, just a little bit_ – he loved her too.

And she relaxed against him, her eyes fluttering closed.


	11. 10 - Tragic

_So.. So sorry for the delay. I was distracted by the other story I started - which, in hindsight wasn't such a good plan, starting something new before finishing the old - and then I simply couldn't finish the last chapter. It just didn't fit. So yeah, this is not the last chapter. The next will be. Bit of a filler, though. There's no juicy Jaspenor in this one and I read somewhere that Robert is a bit more serious than Liam and Eleanor, so I'm pretty sure my Robert is nothing like the real deal, so apologies. But I just wanted to write Robert and say goodbye to Poppy and have some fun and fighting, because.. Well. Not sure actually. Next chap is the last. Loads of Jaspenor. Won't make you wait this long. Thank you to those who are still reading :)_

* * *

 **Chapter 10**

He didn't even see it coming, the raised hand. The inevitable burning sensation, when her hand flatly hit the side of his face, was entirely unexpected. And, he decided, undeserved.

'The fuck, Frost! I haven't seen nor heard from you in six bloody weeks.'

He knew it wasn't fair, not texting nor calling, but this whole _thing_ with Eleanor was still so fragile and he didn't dare ignite her wrath or scare her away by leaving her side for too long. And honestly, in between guarding the future King and fucking his Royal sister, he simply hadn't found the time.

With the coronation coming up in just a matter of days, the Palace was in the highest state of alertness and there were people fluttering about and running around. Jasper cared very little for all of them and hadn't bothered to hide this, to the point that Robert and Eleanor had send him away because his 'attitude was becoming a _thing'_ after him thumping one of the Royal Tailor's assistants on the nose when the young man – in Jasper's _humble_ opinion– had become a bit too hands-on with the Princess. In all honesty, Jasper had practically been hunting any excuse to escape the hellhole that was the Palace at the moment and the fitter had conveniently given him one.

So here he was, standing in front of Poppy's door and he hadn't really expected her to be jumping his bones with joy, but his stinging cheek was another extreme altogether.

'The fuck right back at you, Pops,' he cursed. 'Fuck you did that for?'

She shrugged.

'Not quite sure,' she grinned. 'But it felt good.

She smiled broadly at him, one hand on her hip, and he found himself returning the stance.

'What?' he smirked and she punched him, softly, on the arm.

'Come in, Frost,' she said with a flourish, bowing exuberantly, and he rolled his eyes at her.

'Should I call you Lord now?' she asked thoughtfully. 'Or haven't you crawled that far up the Princess' hole yet?'

He pushed her inside the house as she laughed and flung the door shut a bit harder than necessary. Contemplated slapping her on the ass, but that was just a fleeting thought, because Eleanor would have his balls and he suspected Poppy would have a few choice words for him as well. Right before she'd pinch his cheeks and let him know the Princess should be happy to 'smack that'.

'Beer?' she called from the kitchen. He nodded, momentarily forgetting she couldn't see him. She tossed him a bottle anyway and dropped down next to him on the sofa.

'So, lover boy,' she started. 'Fill me in. Last thing I remember; you were puking in my bed. Can't imagine the Princess being too keen on that sort of shit. Or is she?'

'Poppy,' he sighed, but she held up a hand.

'She _does_ of course have a history of spewing and barfing,' she continued. 'Believe me, you should check last year's issues of D-Throned. Very entertaining. Never thought she'd incorporate it during sex, though.'

He gagged.

'Poppy,' he said sharply. 'Are you being difficult on purpose?'

'Yes,' she answered frankly. 'Had you expected differently?'

And he hadn't, not really, but still he was surprised. _She_ had told him to go and talk to the Princess and now it almost seemed like she was mad at him. He thought hers was a chapter well closed. Closed and burned by them together. Perhaps he had been mistaken.

'I am not mad at you,' she sighed, answering his silence. 'I am disappointed. You can't just hole up in your apartment, talk to no one and then suddenly turn in your resignation without any explanation. You left, no word whatsoever, and now you show up at my place and dare to look at me like I'm a woman scorned.

'I am not,' she continued. 'I am a friend hurt by her mate's absence.'

She flicked him against the ear, causing him to jump.

'We all know you're a dick who has no clue what human emotions are or what to do with it,' she said, 'but this was pushing it, even for you.'

He had to fight a smile and slung an arm around the back of the sofa, lightly touching her shoulders.

'I'm sorry,' he offered. She scoffed, but the smile she gave him was wide.

'Now tell me, boy,' she said, her American accent sounding almost authentic, but perhaps this was simply because he compared hers to Liam's. 'What's been happening?'

He told her everything. _Everything_.

From the day he had first slept with Eleanor, to him fucking the Queen. From the King's murder to Robbie's reappearance. The twins illegitimacy, Beck, Samantha, the _King's Cup_. From the birthday party, the second one, to Cartizze and his new job. As the nearly crowned King's bodyguard and apparently the Princess' bed warmer. Her mouth was open, his beer warm and the sun setting, by the time he was finished.

'I thought you didn't want the epic love story,' Poppy murmured, her expression both impressed and shocked. 'But I see you're doing just fine creating one on your own.'

She leaned her head back, resting it on his arm as she whistled softly.

'Well,' she sighed. 'Not really _fine_. But I suppose you don't see it that way.'

He could see the wheels turning in her head, see her process all that he had just told her. He wondered if she'd think differently of him. Whether he cared if she did. He decided, when she turned, looking at him from the corner of her eye, that he would. She _was_ important to him and her opinion mattered. She didn't give it to him, though. Her opinion.

'Are you happy now?' she asked him instead. And the question surprised him, took him off guard.

He was living in the Palace again. Hadn't sold his apartment yet, because he didn't let go of things easily, but the Palace _felt_ like home. Not that he had spent a lot of time in his own quarters. At the end of his shift more often than not he'd find himself in the Princess' room. Sleeping, fucking, but never talking. Come sunrise she was always quick to throw him out. _Very homey_.

But he was back. He was back in her life and he loved her – and he was pretty _damn_ sure she loved him to – so it was only a matter of time. She was stubborn and he was happy.

End of story.

Right?

'No.'

It almost hurt to admit it, but no. He wasn't happy.

For _fuck's_ sake.

Poppy had the decency to not look smug about it, but he _knew_.

'How'd you know?' he asked and she smirked.

'Because, _milord_ ,' she said slyly. 'You and the Princess are both exceptionally stupid and also both very skilled in making each other miserable.'

He let his finger rest on her shoulder, applying soft pressure and she moved closer. She pressed her cheek against his shoulder and he sighed. He dropped his chin atop her head.

Frowned and sighed again.

'I'm not unhappy,' he said eventually.

'Just not happy,' she finished for him.

'Not happy,' he assented.

She was about to speak, but the soft buzz of his phone beat her to it.

 _Robert._

He gave her an apologetic look as he pushed himself up from the sofa and retreated to the kitchen to answer the call.

'What are you doing?' the Prince's voice demanded through the phone. 'Never mind. It doesn't matter. Just tell me where you are and I will pick you up.'

He didn't sound panicked in any way, just thoroughly annoyed. Most likely the Palace ruckus had reached Robbie's limits as well. The Prince seemed to take everything in stride and looked unperturbed but Jasper knew that half the time Robert was just as irritated as he was, perhaps even worse.

'What's going on?' Jasper asked. 'Trouble?'

'Depends,' Robert answered. Jasper could hear the grin in his voice now. 'Walked out on Mum and the twins, grabbed a Rover from the garage, blasted through the gates and am now driving towards the City, thankfully without security on my tail.

'However, before James gets his titties in a twist and contacts MI-5,' Robbie continued, 'I thought it smart to contact you and force you to hang out with me, since that is your job and I am not ready to return to Gehenna yet.

'So, Frost, protector of my body. Where are you?'

Jasper didn't really think about it when he answered, 'Poppy's,' but the Prince's silence was telling.

'You still there?' he asked after a while, when Robbie had yet to speak.

'Yes, yes.'

'Poppy, you say?' Robbie asked and he managed to go from sounding distracted to suspicious in a matter of seconds.

'The girlfriend,' he said and he corrected himself immediately. 'Ex-girlfriend.'

Jasper scoffed, closed his eyes for a second. He leaned against the refrigerator and ran a hand quickly through his hair.

'Not girlfriend, not ex-girlfriend,' he chided. 'She's just a friend. A _good_ friend.'

'The _best_!' he heard Poppy yell from the living room.

'The best,' he conceded. He knew damn well she could hear _him_ which meant most likely Robert could hear _her._

For _fuck's_ sake.

'She's very conceited, isn't she,' Robbie said. 'Tell _Poppy yo_ ur other _best friend_ is on his way. I presume she has some whiskey. And I do not mean the cheap sort. Text me the address.'

He hung up before Jasper had a chance to reply.

It turned out Poppy _did_ have the cheap sort.

Robbie eyed the bottle with distaste, his nose wrinkled in horror.

'Is she serious?' he asked Jasper incredulously. The latter shrugged.

'Yes,' Poppy said sharply, ' _she_ is serious. I am sorry it's not up to your royal standards.'

Robbie ignored the muttered 'dick' but they both knew he heard it.

'Well,' he sighed. 'This must suffice then. Until we find a venue better suited to our wishes.'

' _Our_ wishes?'

Robbie smirked.

'You didn't think I'd be going back to the palace already, Jasper?

'I just escaped.'

Jasper and Poppy shared a quick look, which Robbie caught, but he chose not to comment. He took a sip – straight from the bottle, who gave a damn, it was shitty anyway – and crossed his legs. Patiently. The second mouthful was worse than the first, but by his fourth he was necking it without any reservations.

'So what's your plan, then?' Poppy asked. She added, 'Your Highness' as an afterthought.

He rubbed his chin thoughtfully while Jasper inconspicuously took the bottle from him. He passed it on to Poppy who drifted off to the kitchen, to return a few seconds later with three bottles of beer. She handed one to Robert, who mockingly sighed.

'I was just getting used to the taste of arse in my mouth,' he smirked. He accepted the beer nevertheless, but not before Poppy rolled her eyes at him.

'I don't know where to go,' Robert whined. 'I just needed to get out. Thought smacking someone would do the trick, but Mom wasn't impressed. Apparently _that_ particular trick only works for lowly bodyguards shagging the Princess.'

Jasper inhaled sharply and Robert glanced at him, smirking.

 _Thought I didn't know, did you, Jasper?_

'But then Mom started yapping on about marriage,' he continued. 'Finding a wife, producing an heir, serving the nation and securing the line. I'm not even bloody King yet.'

He then grinned.

'But apparently marriage talk is a good enough reason to flee the palace,' he said. 'Since no one has followed me yet.'

'God bless us when you're actually getting married,' Poppy muttered.

'God bless his wife,' Jasper said.

Robert dismissed them both.

'Plebs,' he sneered. 'You know nothing.'

He chugged the remainder of his beer, holding up the empty bottle for Poppy. She stubbornly crossed her arms, intending to stare him down, but Jasper softly touched her elbow, a ghost of a smile on his face, so she took it. Her exaggerated bow only seemed to please Robert.

'How's Eleanor,' Jasper asked as soon as she disappeared in the kitchen. He knew Poppy could hear him still, but it just felt awkward asking with her in the room.

Robert shrugged.

'Annoyed,' he said. 'Mostly because she can't smoke, can't drink nor use drugs. And of course you're not there.'

'Told her I'd text her once I found you,' he said.

'To let her know I am safe and with my detail, obviously,' he said. 'Not because she cares about you or something preposterous like that.'

'Of course,' Jasper agreed.

'Remind me to do so once we're somewhere that's actually fun,' Robert smirked.

'And now _that's_ out of the way,' he said, 'can we please just go and get shitfaced, before _responsibility_ rears its ugly head again and I'm forced to act all mighty and royal again.'

'So this is _not_ you acting royal and mighty, then?' Poppy asked incredulously.

'No, he's just a dick in general,' Jasper supplied.

'True,' Robert agreed. 'And both of you'd do well to remember that this dick is your Heir Apparent and soon to be King. So a bit of respect, please. Especially _you_.'

He looked sharply at Poppy, who gasped offended.

'Insulting my whiskey,' she sputtered. 'Drinking my beer. Barging into my house, but _I'm_ the one that needs to show respect.'

Robert purposefully ignored her.

'Now,' he smiled. 'Let's go to that quaint place you brought us last time, Jasper. I'm up for some dancing and drinking.'

He held up his bottle of beer, smirking.

'To a night of debauchery, sinfulness and indecency,' he cheered.

Poppy rolled her eyes.

'You know those words mean practically the same,' she muttered.

Robert shrugged. 'Doesn't make them any less true.'

He was unfamiliar with roadies, but happily accepted one when they all piled into the ordered hackney and Poppy revealed to have smuggled a small assortment of special beers inside her purse which to him seemed too tiny to house such an indecent amount of alcoholic beverages.

'I'm starting to warm up to her,' he told Jasper. 'At least she knows her beers.'

'I am ignoring him from now on,' she in turn informed Jasper. 'King of Pricks.'

It took some soothing words from Jasper and another beer – 'A Dutch one, I promise, it's good' – to convince a bristling Robert to not kick her out of the cab.

They decided on Apples Pears in Whitechapel, despite Jasper's protests that Robert would certainly be recognized there. The Henstridge stubborn streak was strong in this one as well, so they were winging it, forcing Robert to wear a fake Burberry baseball they had picked up on the way. He refused to wear Poppy's Adidas jacket over his dress shirt, though, saying the cap was already messing with his charm and exclaiming loudly he was unwilling to look like a complete chav. _Bloody idiot._

The doorman eyed them curiously and Jasper slipped him a couple of tenners.

'Royal visitor, huh,' the man grinned.

Another bullseye and the doorman smirked.

'Just some rich bloke, then,' he agreed.

Jasper nodded at him and followed Robert and Poppy inside.

Robert had already secured them a table – probably by scaring the previous occupants away – and Poppy was in the middle of ordering some beers and shots.

Jasper took the seat next to Robert, leaning towards him.

'The bouncer recognized you,' he said. 'Paid him off. Not sure whether he'll keep his mouth shut, though.

'How much did you give him?' Robert asked.

'Are you going to pay me back?'

'No.'

'Then it doesn't matter.'

Robert laughed quietly, clapped him on the back.

'That's why I like you, mate,' he said. 'That's why I like you.'

He adjusted his cap and winked at a girl passing their table. She blushed and when she joined her friends again, she was quick to point both Robert and Jasper out to them. Jasper pointedly looked the other way, but Robert waved daintily at them.

Poppy made gagging sounds as she joined them again, carefully balancing three bottles of beer and three shot glasses.

'Apparently two extremely shaggable blokes just entered the premises and all these sex-deprived hussies don't know what to do with their fannies now,' she groaned. 'Please tell me they're not talking about you lot.'

'Obvious enough they are,' Robert smirked. 'Jealous?'

'Just being practical,' Poppy replied. 'One of them is bound to recognize you. How about keeping a low profile and not making heart eyes with them?'

She waved a hand in front of Robert's face, who was making eye contact with the girl from before.

'Doorman already recognized me,' he said, slapping her hand away. 'Don't cock block me.'

'His attitude is a cock block,' she muttered. She glared at the group of girls. Jasper was decidedly impressed when they actually seemed intimidated.

'To debauchery, sinfulness and indecency, even if those words mean _practically the same_ ,' Robert smirked, holding up his shot glass. 'To Jasper protecting my body and little Miss Poppy scaring away all the pretty girls. Oh, what a night.'

He chugged his own shot, then continued to throw back Jasper's and Poppy's as well, smirking at them triumphantly. Poppy sighed and got up to order them another round. She sent Jasper a scathing look, tried to look stern, but the smile threatening to break through undid her efforts.

Within the hour they had the table filled with empty shot glasses, beer bottles and girls previously called hussies by Poppy. She was talking to them animatedly now - she would later blame it on the alcohol - , while Robert was showing off his questionable moves on the dancefloor. He had forced Jasper to join him, but besides standing on the dancefloor, Jasper hadn't done much – 'You're like a bloody statue, mate,' Robert had complained, 'Simply in awe of your astonishing moves, Your Highness,' Jasper had replied drily – and Robert had quickly dismissed him.

The Prince had found a table to dance on and was waving over one of the serving girls. He spread his arms wide.

'Another round of shots,' he shouted and cheers went up.

'You get a shot, _you_ get a shot, _everyone_ gets shots!'

'Great. And now he thinks he's Oprah,' Poppy sighed, well into her drinks, and Jasper cracked a smile, slinging an arm around her shoulders. He shook her, kissed her on the side of her head.

'You okay?' he asked. She nodded and took another deep sip.

'I'm going to be so hungover tomorrow,' she complained, but she was smiling and he ruffled her hair a bit.

'Stop drinking,' he suggested. She made to answer, but then Robert appeared, pulling her up by the arm, spinning her around with such force Jasper briefly lost sight of her.

'Can't stop,' she yelled at him over the music. 'Need alcohol to handle this maniac.'

At some point Robert decided to switch tops with Poppy and he donned the Adidas jacket, much to the delight of all present. He attempted a Cockney accent, which failed miserably – a true Henstridge – and he had Jasper doing damage control with a group of young blokes from near Bow Bells who were extremely unimpressed with Robert's mockery of a Cockney Londoner, no matter how royal the imitation.

The owner of the bar personally brought them a bottle of champagne – the expensive sort, for _You-Know-Who_ – and if there was a heaven, Jasper was certain Robert had reached, judging by the look on the man's face when he got to pop it. Whether it was because of the Harry Potter reference or the champagne, Jasper wasn't certain.

'No sex in the champagne room,' Robert shouted, having found his table again and standing on top of it, spraying champagne all around.

'You're supposed to drink it, you nitwit,' someone in the crowd who hadn't yet recognized him as the Prince shouted and only Jasper's quick reflexes saved the boy from being hit in the face with a bottle of Krug.

'What a bunch of idiots, these subjects of mine,' Robert smirked a moment later, having climbed down from his stage and taking his original seat next to Jasper. 'I love them.'

He poured Jasper a flute of champagne and they both sat in silence for a moment, watching Poppy continue to twirl around solo.

'She's completely out of her mind,' Robert said thoughtfully. 'I understand what you saw in her.'

'Yeah,' Jasper said wistfully. 'Too bad she wasn't your sister.'

Robert looked at him, a pensive smile on his face. His cheeks were red, a clear sign of his intoxication, and one of his sleeves was covered in what looked a suspicious lot like candle-grease even though there were no candles around.

'Too bad for you, yeah,' he said eventually.

'Don't even go there,' Jasper warned.

Robert grinned.

'Wouldn't dare to,' he said. 'My sister is having sex with the help. Mom would have an aneurysm if I too started shagging a commoner.'

He winked at Jasper and chugged one of the beers on the table. Grabbed another almost full bottle and downed that one as well.

'Pretty sure those were both not yours,' Jasper said.

'I'm the King,' Robert smirked. ' _Everything_ is mine.'

He laughed at his own joke – at least, Jasper hoped it was a joke – and kissed his bodyguard on the cheek. It was a wet one. Jasper recoiled from it.

'Still not your biggest fan,' Robert said. 'But I think I love you just the tiniest bit.'

Jasper shifted in his chair uncomfortably.

'Thanks, I guess,' he said slowly.

Robert opened his mouth to say more, but Poppy interrupted him, shoving him aside as she wedged herself between him and Jasper.

'I think I just made out with that buffer at the end of the bar,' she informed them. 'So it might be time to go before I start stripping and make a complete fool out of myself.'

It took some convincing Robert – who was of the opinion that stripping was _not_ a bad thing – but eventually they stumbled out of the bar. The street was almost empty. There were some drunk stragglers about, the three of them excluded, but no paparazzi or anything else of the sort.

'Just some rich bloke, right,' the doorman grinned as they left and Jasper slipped him another fifty quid.

They dropped Poppy home first and if she hugged Robert just a bit too long and then completely forgot to greet him, Jasper pretended not to notice. She was a grown woman. She knew not to go there. At least, he hoped.

The ride back home Robert chattered uninterruptedly, rehashing the entire night. He was still wearing the Burberry cap and Adidas jack, playing with the zipper as he spoke.

'Thank you, Frost,' he said as they moved through the tunnels, into the palace. 'I needed this.'

'It was nothing,' Jasper said. 'I'm your bodyguard. Your wish is my command.'

'Ha,' Robert exclaimed. 'I'm telling Eleanor.'

He stumbled back to his room, a silly grin on his face.

'Debauchery, sinfulness and indecency,' he told Jasper over his shoulder. 'Mission accomplished, methinks. Still disappointed about the stripping, though.'

Jasper waved a hand at him, taking a right at the end of the corridor. The thought of retiring to his own room hadn't even crossed his mind. She'd probably be sleeping, but he didn't mind. He had missed her. All he wanted was to bury his nose into her hair and fall asleep with his arms around her, preferably one hand on a tit. Preferably, not required.

He pushed open the doors to her bedroom with his back, making sure not to make any noise when he closed them again.

Not that it would've mattered.

'Fuck you, Jasper!' And a weird sense of déjà vu was about to hit him, but the book got there first. It bounced off the side of his head and thumped on the floor heavily. He didn't have time to check for any damage to his face, because she was already swinging around, ready to throw another object. He was prepared this time and caught it deftly in his hand – a Bible and he raised his eyebrows before rounding on her.

'The fuck, Eleanor,' he shouted back at her and he did a quick sweep of the room, because she was obviously high or intoxicated or both and _fuck_.

'Fuck you,' she repeated, but there was nothing left to throw and he had reached her, so she couldn't, not even if she wanted to. She backed away from him, stepping out of his reach, away from his grasping hands.

'Don't touch me,' she hissed. 'Just don't.'

His mind was too slow catching up, so he opted to stay quiet, lest he say something stupid. Which, of course, wasn't the right course of action.

'So you're just going to stand here, gaping at me like a demented fish?' she said sharply.

He did exactly that, wracking his mind where he had gone wrong.

Left the palace, went to Poppy, got stalked by Robert, went out, brought the future King home safely like the stand-up bodyguard he was – he consciously had to refrain himself from patting his own shoulder and _fuck alcohol_ -

'Earth to Jasper,' she hissed. 'Are you for real right now?'

She pushed him, harder than he had expected, and he had to step back. She followed, shoved him again.

'Where have you been, Jasper,' she asked, poking a finger into his chest, pushing him back further.

'And don't lie to me.'

He was taking too long to answer, he could see it in her eyes and he could already see all sorts of weird thoughts running through her head, but for fuck's sake, they were back to _this_ again?

'Eleanor,' he started, but she held up her hand, effectively silencing him.

'This is my life, Jasper. All of it. It will always be crazy. And you'll always get annoyed and be pissed at one person or another.'

She pushed him, then swung away from him again, moving back towards the bed.

'But this is my life. You _knew_ this and you _promised_ you'd be here for me. You _promised_ not to leave me. You did leave though. But then you came back, I let you come back and you promised me the same bloody thing. To be here for me and not leave me. And I was the fool who believed you. Again. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.'

She scoffed, turned back around and looked at him.

'Guess I'm a fucking idiot then.'

He was staring at her, dumbfounded. Wasn't processing any of this. He was exhausted, had simply wanted to crawl into bed with her. Mold his body against hers and just hold her. Perhaps sneakily slip in from behind – and the thought alone made him smirk – but he wasn't smashed enough to not realize none of that was going to happen now. Not when she was staring daggers at him and he had no fucking clue why.

'You wanted me to go, right,' he said slowly and when her eyes narrowed, he almost – almost – started to doubt himself. But he pushed forward.

'After I hit that fitter. You said I was getting on everyone's nerves and a night out of the palace would be good for me. Told Robert to dismiss me.'

'Because your attitude was becoming a _thing_ ,' she finished for him and he breathed out, relieved his memory hadn't cheated him.

'And so the first opportunity you get, you go to _there_ again,' she said scathingly. 'Thought I didn't find out, did you? Spending the night with some bint and then thinking you can come crawling back into my bed with me none the wiser.'

She rolled her eyes, chuckled derisively.

'You really think me this stupid, Jasper?'

He could only stare. Study her. Was she for _real_?

'I went to visit a _friend_ ,' he said.

She scoffed.

'A friend I haven't seen for weeks because I'm spending all my time with you.'

'Since when is Poppy a friend?' she asked and perhaps there was something in his stance or his face, but she mistook it for surprise and laughed.

'What?' she smirked. 'Didn't think stupid, old Eleanor would find out? That the amazing Jasper from Las Vegas spent the night beneath his ex-girlfriend's skirts?'

'I hope it was satisfying enough,' she said, 'because there's nothing here for you anymore. You can go right back to that slag.'

She stood before him, challenging, her chin held high, and he felt his anger rise. Suddenly, unavoidably, and the sudden need to grab her was almost overpowering.

 _For fuck's sake._

'She is my _friend_ ,' he said through gritted teeth. 'The _only_ friend I had for the past months. So you better watch your mouth when you talk about her like that. _Princess_.'

'Cute,' she grinned. 'He's defending his slapper. At least she's good in the sack, then.'

'Eleanor,' he said, but she shushed him.

'It's okay, Jasper,' she said coldly. 'I should've known better. Lying and deceiving is all you're good at.'

'You're talking bullshit, Eleanor.'

She continued as if she hadn't heard him.

'I actually believed her when she told me that shit, you know,' she said. 'Her not being your girlfriend. Us not being a game. I even believed _you_. Saying you lo-'

She stopped herself.

'You had me there for a moment. Falling into the same trap. What was the con this time, Jasper? Or are you still making a play for the Koh-I-Noor? Different partner this time, same damn story?'

'Eleanor, shut up.'

'Why?' she challenged. 'Because I am telling the truth?

'Because Jasper from Las Vegas is still the same bloody drifter he used to be? The same cheat? The same liar?'

'Eleanor!' and he surprised himself by the volume of his voice. He scratched the back of his neck, breathing in deeply to calm his racing heart. Anger would get them both nowhere.

'What am I to you?' he asked after a couple of seconds.

She arched a mocking eyebrow, snorted. He took a step towards her, before she could answer.

'I'm serious, Eleanor,' he said. 'What am I to you?'

 _Silence._

'Six weeks, Eleanor. It's been six weeks. And I've been here every step of the way. Just like I promised. But what the fuck am I to you? Just a convenient lay? Somebody who's there until the real deal comes along? Entertainment until e _Beck_ returns and you can spread your legs for him.'

She slapped him hard across the face.

He had been expecting it, maybe even deserved it, but he still wasn't prepared for how much it stung.

'Keep his name out of your mouth, Jasper,' she hissed at him.

'Then keep Poppy out of yours,' he said.

'I haven't been with Beck in months,' she said. 'More than a year, even. He is _not_ a part of this. She _is_.'

'Why?' he asked.

'Because you went to her,' she cried out, frustrated. 'You say you love me and then you go and fuck her. How is that even right? All this time you were claiming to be there for _me_ , you were still fucking her.'

'What am I to you?' he asked her again. 'Because to me you're the world. You're everything. You think I would fuck that up by having sex with someone else? Where would I even find the time to screw someone else? I've been with you every bloody night.'

'Except tonight,' she bit back. 'Tonight you were with _her_!'

And this was getting ridiculous. Was getting on his nerves.

'That you even have the audacity to come here, still smelling of _her_ ,' she snarled. 'Go back to your whore, Jasper. I'm not spreading my legs for you anymore. Go and spread your lies somewhere else. You're nothing to me.'

She wrapped her arms around her waist, the only sign of her hurt.

'You're not even man enough to give me an explanation. Good for nothing but sticking your knob inside a cunt you're not supposed to be fucking.'

His hands were on her arms, tight, and he let go as if burned, suppressing the urge to shake her.

'Shut the fuck up, Eleanor,' he hissed and she was in his face, defiantly, but he couldn't care less.

'I don't owe you a fucking explanation,' he said lowly. 'You sent me away. I went out. Now I'm back. Deal with it. You're not a child. Bother someone else with your paranoia.'

He shrugged off his jacket, draped it over the back of the sofa.

'And don't ever take Poppy's name into your mouth. Not if you don't have anything nice to say.'

He started unbuttoning his cufflinks. The shirt was dirty – sometime during the night Robert had spilled beer on him and there were some suspicious stains on the back as well. He had a couple of shirts in Eleanor's room, grabbed one of them where he – well, she - had last left it, hanging from a lamp next to the bed. He slipped into the black shirt, rolled his previous one up in a ball.

She was still looking at him, face unreadable, and he edged around, moving past her, picking up his jacket on the way. His hand was on the doorknob when she spoke.

'Where are you going?'

She managed to sound as arrogant as ever, but he knew better.

'To my room.'

He then sighed.

'You're angry and I'm tired. We're not having this conversation right now. I've been here for you, every damn day and every damn night. I told you, you are the only for me, and I meant it. I love you and I know you love me too. But I can't keep this doing this. You need to figure your shit out. Either you're with me or you're not.'

He ran a hand through his hair, rested his head against the door.

'I am going back to my room. You know where it is. If you need me, if you know what you want, come find me. Hell, send someone to get me. Text me, call me. I'll be here right away.

'But I can't do this right now, Len.

'I know I fucked up before and I'm sorry, but _this_ is ridiculous. And you need to figure it out for yourself. I can't help you with it.'

He was halfway through the door when he stopped and turned around. She was looking at him and all the anger had bled from her body.

 _Forlorn_.

They were a Shakespearean play.

 _Epic_ , Poppy had said, but Jasper suspected differently.

 _Tragedy._

It took him four steps to reach her, two breathes to wrap his hands into her hair and a heartbeat to pull her close. Impossibly so.

'I'm not leaving you,' he whispered against her lips. 'I'll never leave you. I'm just giving you time. Time and space. Until you're ready.'

True to his words, she did not see him the following days.

 _A King of infinite space._

She would've laughed if it wasn't so bloody _tragic_.


	12. 11 - Cliché

_That's a wrap. Honestly, this chapter is all over the place and I need to tighten it up, but I've been so distracted by this Game of Thrones inspired Royals fanfic that it just wasn't working. I always knew how I wanted to end this, but knowing and actually doing it, apparently are two different things._

 _Either way, I will come back to this story and revise everything. For now this is actually the end. Thank you for reading and reviewing. I so appreciate it._

 _Next update will either be the first chapter of my Jaspenor Fantasy Epic or The King, a Philosopher. I hope you'll read those stories too._ _Much love and thanks to all of you!_

* * *

 **Chapter 11. Cliché**

She had been dreaming of him every bloody night since he had left. Of toe curling kisses and fingers desperately clutching sheets, of her hands in his hair and his mouth on her –

She fucking hated Robert.

'The only reason I am sex deprived is _you_ ,' she accused him.

'The only reason you are supposedly sex deprived is _you_ ,' he corrected her. She huffed and hissed, as she had been prone to do the past four days, but Robert could not care any less. With the coronation rapidly approaching he had more important matters on his mind than the absence of his sister's orgasms.

'Try masturbating,' he suggested, because, after all, he was a nice guy and feigning attentiveness wouldn't cost him anything.

'I tried,' she cried, 'and it's not working.'

'Try Beck,' he said.

But she woefully shook her head.

'I can't. I keep comparing him to Jasper and he comes up short, massively.'

'Well then,' he said and he decided to go out on a limb. 'Try apologizing.'

His neck cracked sharply as the pillow hit him from behind.

'For what?' she fumed. ' _He_ was in the wrong. Not I.'

A good guess then.

'I thought this was all my fault?'

'Yours and his both!'

He sighed, laid down his pen on the writing table. He was regretting telling Rachel he would write his own coronation speech. It was proving to be a real hassle. But perhaps that was simply because of the presence of his sister.

'You've been moaning and complaining for the last four days,' he said, 'and my bodyguard has been as silent as a bloody brick. You're nagging me about not _getting_ any and now you're telling me _people_ are in the _wrong?_ What is your bloody problem?'

She threw her phone in his direction. He missed catching it by at least two feet and she glared at him. He glared straight back.

'I am working on my coronation speech here,' he said. 'What makes you think that catching randomly thrown objects is even a minor priority to me?'

He attempted to retrieve the phone without getting up from his seat. After the third try Eleanor got up herself and dropped the phone unceremoniously on the desk.

'Why would you send me this, Robbie?'

He looked at the screen of her phone, already unimpressed, but the corners of his mouth lifted as he found both Jasper and Poppy grinning back at him, both clearly drunk and both having a great time.

He laughed.

He remembered this. Somewhere in between twirling Poppy around on the dancefloor and her getting completely shitfaced and wanting to strip, he had snapped this picture of them. They had posed gladly, Jasper making somewhat of a kissy-face - which only validated his level of intoxication to Robert.

And maybe, in hindsight, it hadn't been too bright to text Eleanor this same picture, but Robert had been well into his drinks as well when he remembered he was supposed to let his little sister know where he and his bodyguard were, so he had decided showing was better than telling.

 _Clearly_ it wasn't.

Eleanor was glaring at him. She had her hands on her hips and she did not look pleased.

 _She was serious then?_

He straightened up, reined in his laughter.

'Please do not tell me this is the reason Frost has been in a right mood these past couple of days, because if it is, I'm of a mind to disown you and find a new sister before the coronation tomorrow.'

Silence met him.

'Bloody hell,' he chuckled. 'Never thought my own sister would be this daft. Christ.'

'He was out with Poppy,' she said, as if that explained everything.'

'You're daft,' he repeated.

' _Out with Poppy,'_ she said again and apparently there was something he wasn't getting, because she was staring at him wide-eyed, expectantly, and _bloody hell, she was so stupid._

' _We_ were out with Poppy,' he corrected, crossing his arms over his chest, _preparing._

'I bloody well know that,' she hissed – and here it was, 'but _he_ was fucking out with Poppy and what the _fuck,_ Robert, _why_ was he out with Poppy? Why is he still fucking with her?'

He smirked.

'You've been watching too many bad American series,' he said. 'But okay, he was fucking with her because I was fucking with her and the three of us were fucking around in some dingy bar in a part of London that I never want to see again, because tomorrow I'll be the bloody King of the United fucking Kingdom, Canada, Australia _and_ bloody New Zealand and _that_ night, that night you're throwing a hissy fit over, I was nothing more than some bloke wearing a hideous Adidas vest and dress shoes.

'Does that answer satisfy you, _Princess?'_

She bristled, continued to stare him down, and eventually he sighed.

'What, Eleanor?' he said. 'What is it?'

'Answer me honestly, Robert.'

And he was always honest to her, crudely so. She knew this.

'You think they're shagging?'

He couldn't help it. He laughed again. A boisterous sound that had her recoil and glare at him accusingly.

'Fuck you, Robbie.'

'No, fuck _you_ , Len.'

He leaned forward behind his desk, almost crawled into her face, but she didn't budge, didn't step back.

'You know I was there, right?' he said. 'I was there. Poppy was there. My _bodyguard_ was there. Remember him, my _bodyguard._ That bloke who works for me and is head over heels in love with my sister, which may I add is still an odd notion.'

'Get to the bloody point,' Eleanor bit out.

'That was my point, Eleanor,' he sighed. 'The man is in love with you. Why would you ask me whether he's having sex with his best mate? Besides the obvious ridiculousness of that question, isn't it something you should ask _him_?'

'I did ask him and he left.'

'Knowing you,' he said, 'you accused him. And knowing him, he took his losses before things got out of hand.'

She avoided his gaze and he knew he was right.

'You don't know what you're talking about, Robbie,' she said softly, but he smirked.

'They're mates. He loves you. We went out. What more is there to know?'

' _Everything!'_ she snapped. 'I _know_ they're sleeping together, Robbie. I simply _know_ it. And that picture you send me is proof.'

'All I know is that you're a fucking idiot. The man had a night off, which _you_ and I both gave him and went to see his mate. Who, by the way, was kind enough to let me into her house as well and even though she tried to poison me with shit whiskey, I still think she's a mint lass, and you should be grateful the man you're in love with even has friends, after you and Liam, rightly so, kicked him out last year.'

'Well,' he said after consideration. 'After _you_ kicked him out. And I'm certain that accusing him of sleeping with his friend, must've felt quite the same to him.'

 _If the man's sullen attitude was anything to go by._

'She used to fuck him,' she hissed. 'They're not _just_ friends.'

'Good for her,' Robert snapped. 'I'd bloody fuck him if I thought he'd swing that way. The man's bloody gorgeous.'

'Why are you on _his_ side?' she asked. 'You're supposed to be my brother, not his fucking disciple.'

Robert tried to roll his eyes, but gave up when he saw Eleanor looking at him unimpressed.

'I was rolling my eyes at you,' he explained and she executed such a perfect eye roll in response, he considered getting up and throttling her.

'I am not on his side, Eleanor,' he sighed. 'But I refuse to be on the stupid side of an argument that _you_ most likely instigated because of a bloody picture you're now using to evidence some twisted, farfetched untruth you've conjured up.'

'Then what is the truth according to you, almighty oracle Robert?'

'He visited a mate and then the three of us went out,' he said. 'And we had a fucking great time.'

They stared at each other, hard. But then Eleanor sighed.

'Robert,' she said resigned. 'It's not just the picture.'

'Then what?'

'He didn't tell me he went to see her,' she said. 'And when I asked him about it, he _lied_.'

Robert sighed. Rubbed his temples with his thumbs.

'Go and talk to him. Air your insecurities without accusation. Because that's what this is, Eleanor. _Insecurities._ '

He picked up his pen again.

'Seriously. You're doing my head in. The two of you are bloody ridiculous.

'There will come a time when people stop caring. About the two of you. You're my sister and I will always want you to be happy. I will _always_ love you. And perhaps I also like that common breed bastard of yours. But I can care about the two of you _separately._ I don't have to care about you. _Together._ At some point people are going to stop caring about _Jaspenor._ Won't waste any energy on it anymore. What will you do then?'

'Maybe,' he said slowly, 'you guys are not meant to be. If you can't figure it out on your own, the both of you. If you need me, and Liam, and Poppy to give you guys advice. To get you to work it out. To talk to each other. If you need others to fix your relationship, or point you in the right direction, then perhaps, Len, it's simply not working.'

'Now get the hell out of my room,' he said. 'I have a speech I need to finish.'

He was surprised when she offered no objections and simply left.

xxx

He stood outside Robert's door when she exited the room. He looked straight ahead and did not acknowledge her, but she halted anyway. Watched him through long lashes: the muscles in his jaw, the aristocratic line of his nose, his eyes. _Those bold, blue eyes._

She watched him.

A shock went through her when his gaze found hers.

'Good conversation, Princess?' he asked.

Of course. The walls of the Palace were thin and though everyone pretended to not overhear, Jasper clearly wasn't everyone. She wondered if he had been there all along. Couldn't remember seeing him when she entered, but that in itself meant nothing. She had trained herself the past days to _not_ see him – even though he was _everywhere_ she looked and didn't look.

At least he had the grace to not look smug.

 _Though everything about that_ bastard _was smug._

'It was fine,' she said slowly.

'Fine,' he repeated equally slow. He resumed his previous stance, staring straight ahead. He looked more relaxed, though, and she felt her own stiffened shoulders loosen on their own accord. She inched closer, barely perceptible, but she knew he noticed when his jaw twitched. She wanted to tell him that –

 _Tell him what?_

Their fingers brushed and a tiny electric jolt went through her. She jumped, laughed nervously.

'Static electricity,' she murmured.

He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, his little finger taking hold of hers.

'Sure,' he said.

She breathed in deeply, inhaling his scent. Daringly, she let her head rest on his shoulder. He tensed, only for a moment, then he eased up again. She took this as a sign, wrapping her fingers more firmly around his hand.

'What are you doing?' His tone was soft, almost gentle.

'I am holding your hand.'

'Why?'

'Because…'

She faltered.

 _Because what?_

Because you _love_ him, you dolt, and you don't want to fight anymore.

And in her head it sounded so simple, but was anything ever simply with them?

'Because you're mine,' she said instead.

He stiffened beside her, pulled his hand back. 'And not Poppy's, you mean?'

The moment was gone before it had even started and she was too slow to catch on.

'Definitely _not_ hers,' she said hotly. And even as the words left her mouth, she knew it had been the wrong thing to say. _Anything,_ everything, _would've been better than_ that, _Eleanor._

But she couldn't take it back, but perhaps she could bring him back.

She reached out to him, her hand reaching up. She meant to cup his face, plead with him to look at her, but he leaned away from her touch. He avoided her gaze and her contact altogether, having gone back to staring at the wall.

The muscles in his jaw taut.

She almost quit breathing, but recovered quickly, stepping back as if nothing was wrong.

'Do I need to call someone to escort you to your room, Princess?'

'No, thank you,' she said. 'I can manage.'

She turned on her heels, head held straight as she started walking the other way.

Maybe Robert was right.

Maybe they weren't meant to be.

xxx

She was disappointed he hadn't followed her. But he was on duty and she was a fuck-up. He couldn't have, wouldn't have, shouldn't have, even if he had wanted to.

She strode towards her liquor cabinet, eyeing the rows of bottles. She chose a bottle of red wine, its label faded and illegible. As long as it tasted good and dulled her senses, which it did.

She sank back into the pillows on her bed, reaching out to her bedside table to grab a fag. Easy motions. This she knew. This thing with Jasper, she didn't.

She took a sip from the bottle.

Why was she so distrustful? But she smirked as the answer was obvious. Not something she needed to explore any further. But she _had_ taken him back into her bed and into her life. Was it fair of her to keep doubting him? If she was honest to herself, she knew there was nothing going on between him and Poppy. She simply wanted him to reassure her.

To hold her and tell her he loved her. Her, and no one else.

Was that too much to ask for?

Had there ever been confessions of love when sober? Not from her mouth, maybe from his, but nothing that she could remember. Theirs was a dysfunctional sort of love, lust, _emotion_.

She could ponder _them_ infinitely.

She looked at the bottle disdainfully. _Sober._ She refrained from throwing it across the room and set it down calmly on the floor. She had barely finished a quarter of it.

She didn't _need_ it.

They didn't _need_ it.

They didn't need anybody else to care. As long as they themselves did.

This, _this,_ was their relationship, their emotion, their _love._

 _Lust._

 _Ours._

She rolled over, grabbed her phone and if doubt crept into her mind, making her bend over and quickly down a swallow of liquid, Red courage, none were the wiser. She texted Robert, prayed he would humour her.

A couple of minutes later, too fast for her liking and her too quickly beating heart, there was a knock on her door.

'Robert said you requested my presence, Princess.'

He stood in her doorway and for _fuck's_ sake.

She stared at him. Words failed her.

Almost ran, afraid he'd be gone before she reached him.

She grabbed him. Her nails dug into his forearms. She was hurting him, she knew, but she only drove them deeper. He was here now, right here, and she was not going to let him go. Not again. Not anymore.

She slowly, never breaking eye contact, pressed her lips against the corner of his mouth.

'I miss you, Jasper,' she murmured and her lips brushed his again.

'I miss you so much.'

She kissed him again, kissed his cheeks, the tip of his nose, stood on her toes and placed a hand in the nape of his neck to reach his forehead.

He stood still as a statue.

'Please.'

Was she selfish?

She pressed a kiss to his jaw.

'Please, Jasper?'

And she knew the exact moment his resolve crumbled. Knew she had won, when he grabbed her roughly by the thighs and lifted her up. His fingers held her so tightly, she knew it was going to leave marks. He kicked the door shut with his foot, turned and abruptly pressed her up against it.

A whimper escaped her throat as he pushed his body against her. His eyes were dark and unreadable and she loved him best this way.

He ran his thumb over her bottom lip and she teasingly bit him. He was quick to wrap his hand around her throat, pressuring down gently. She swallowed thickly and he smirked.

Perhaps it wasn't very royal and it certainly wasn't the solution to their problems, but there was something oddly satisfying about being taken against a door, for all the Palace to hear.

And she made sure to be _very v_ ocal about it.

He move them to the bed afterwards and made her remember exactly _why_ they fit together so well. Because of his tongue, and his fingers, and his hips, and.

 _La petite mort._

'I wish we could stay like this forever.' Later, much later and her sleepy murmurs drifted over his chest. He listened attentively.

She was drifting off, close to falling asleep.

'Too bad I'm the Princess.'

She yawned, nestled deeper into his side.

'And you're just the help.'

She didn't feel him tense up. Was halfway asleep. When she woke up again, he was gone.

xxx

She had been in a bad mood the days before, but last night's events, or precisely, the absence of a repeat of last night's events, had soured her mood even further. When Willow threw open her bedroom doors early in the morning, the girl was greeted with a shoe to the face and a kind, 'Fuck off.'

'No can do.' Willow laughed unperturbed. 'It's coronation day. Your mom sent me to – and I quote – get your lazy ass out of bed, open up the window and wash that disgusting smell of sex away.'

She sat down on the sofa, arching an eyebrow at Eleanor.

'I take it you and Jasper made up?'

Eleanor took a peek at her from under her sheets. 'Excuse me?'

'His tie is hanging over the back of the sofa and we all heard Baker at breakfast, complaining to Marcus about weird sounds coming from your bedroom at night.'

Willow grinned.

'However, he did _not_ use the word "weird" to describe those sounds.'

'I hate Jasper,' Eleanor said matter-of-factly, pulling the sheets back over her head.

If she said it often enough, she might even start to believe it.

'Yeah, you hate Jasper and Liam's cock is crooked.'

'I actually wouldn't be surprised,' Eleanor replied, her voice muffled by her bed clothes.

'All right, all right,' Willow sighed. 'What happened? I might not be first on your list of people to talk to about this, but I'm here anyway and you need to air, so shoot.'

'Why?'

'Because I care of course. Everybody's rooting for _Jaspenor._ ' She rolled her R's, just like Liam was prone to do.

'We plebeians actually have actually placed bets whether you guys will ever get your heads out of your arses. I said never, so currently I'm in the lead.'

Eleanor had to lift the sheets a bit to determine whether Willow was joking or not.

She was.

 _Could've fooled me, though._

She was right, though. Eleanor needed to vent and since she so graciously offered…

'This is the man,' she started, 'who fucks me against a door, then gets me off _twice_ just by using his mouth and is ready to go again half a minute later.'

'Sounds quite positive to me.' Even Eleanor could hear the uncertainty in Willow's tone.

'It _is_ positive,' she said. 'But then I wake up halfway through the night and the bloody bastard is _gone_.'

'So apparently the sex wasn't _that_ good,' Willow grinned. When Eleanor growled, she quickly apologized.

'I'm sorry. I tend to make stupid jokes when I'm nervous or don't know what to say. Please, continue.'

Eleanor threw back the covers and sat up straight in her bed.

'He has this ex-girlfriend named Poppy.'

She cocked her head, debated whether to tell Willow or not. But she couldn't even stop the words if she wanted to.

'She's not really his ex-girlfriend, but she is his best friend and they used to have sex. I met her and she is gorgeous – not gorgeous like, but more working-class gorgeous. Do you get me?'

She continued before Willow could answer, not that the girl could have given her a good one.

'She was at my birthday party and he introduced her as his girlfriend. She actually came to the palace, to have lunch with me and Liam and Jasper. It was a blessed shitshow, mind you, but she was nice and good-looking and Liam liked her and…'

'And Jasper liked her,' finished Willow for her.

'Yeah, Jasper liked her. So I befriended her and we hung out and it was for all the wrong reasons. She knew things about him. Understood him. The Jasper she knew was unknown to me. So I became even more curious. I just wanted to know who this girl was Jasper replaced me with. Except he hadn't replaced me and she wasn't his girlfriend and she decided to tell me all of this right after I had some random bloke's cock up my Royal beaver in some tacky club I don't even remember the name of.'

Eleanor looked around the room.

'Can you pass me that bottle next to the sofa?' She was glad she hadn't broken the bottle of red wine the night before and took a deep swig.

'He texted me a couple of days later and I'm convinced _Poppy_ had something to do with it. We met up. I brought Liam and Robert along. Robert beat him up.'

Willow blinked.

'And right in that bloody moment I couldn't hide from him anymore that I loved him still as fiercely as I did the day when I found out he tried to steal the Koh-I-Noor through me.'

Willow blinked again and motioned for Eleanor to give her a mouthful of wine as well.

'We went out, Robert offered him a job, we had sex and he told me he loved me.'

'What happened then?'

'Nothing. We just continued having sex and that was that. We were happy. I was happy. During the day he was Robert's, at night he was mine. Everything was good. And then we had a fight. Because he decided to run off and go and see _Poppy_.'

'Ah yes,' Willow nodded. 'The bane of your existence. The object of your jealousy. The girl who knew Jasper better than you did.'

'She doesn't,' Eleanor hissed. 'She doesn't know him better than I do.'

Willow ignored her last sentence. 'Why did you fight?'

'Because he went to Poppy. Are you not _listening_?

'I asked him why he was with her, if they'd had sex, he got angry and then left.'

Willow gave Eleanor a knowing look. 'Asked or accused?'

'Accused, asked. They're practically the same.'

'They're not, actually.'

Eleanor flipped her the finger.

'Do you really think he's still having sex with her?'

The silence that followed stretched, until Eleanor cleared her throat.

'I don't,' she said softly.

'Then you should tell him and try to explain why you even had such a stupid thought.'

'And maybe apologize,' Willow added as an afterthought.

 _Robert 2.0._

'Sorry for making you listen to this cock,' Eleanor grumbled.

Willow shrugged.

'That's okay. I told you, I care, so I don't mind.'

And _this_ was what Robert had meant, Eleanor realized. People cared about them. _Together._ But what if they stopped caring? What if there was no one left to knock some sense into her head when she did something stupid again - and she knew there would be a next time. There was _always_ a next time.

She _needed_ people to care, because _she_ , on her own, simply wasn't enough. She couldn't fix them on her own. _Could she?_

'I think that the fact that you don't really talk is the problem.' Willow continued speaking, oblivious. 'You need to talk to each other. Communicate. Together. Let him in and all that corny nonsense.'

'It's easy to keep him at bay.' And she didn't know why she was telling Willow this. She had known the girl for a while, but they weren't friends. Not really.

'If I don't let him in, he can't hurt me.'

'If you don't let him, you're definitely hurting him.' Willow glanced over at Eleanor. 'And yourself, I believe.'

'Just because your relationship with my brother is so perfect, doesn't mean you –'

But Willow cut her off.

'My relationship with your brother is _less_ than perfect, Eleanor.' Her tone was still gentle, but there was an underlying fierceness present. 'We fight and we yell and we cry and we break. But we always put each other back together. Because that's what you do when you let somebody in. You take care of each other. And that doesn't just stop when you fight or are mad at the other.'

 _Passion,_ Eleanor thought.

Willow got up from the sofa, held out her hand to pull Eleanor off the bed. Time was ticking. Helena would have a fit if they didn't arrive at the dressing rooms on time. Coronation day was a bitch.

'I know you're stubborn and you know I'm right,' Willow said smartly as she strode towards the still open bedroom doors. Eleanor didn't quite follow.

'What if I let him in and then I mess up. What if there's still nobody there to pick up the pieces?'

Willow smiled, ushered her through the door.

'Don't worry, Princess. If you let him, he'll be there.'

xxx

They had been late, but Helena hadn't noticed. She'd been too busy arguing with Robert, who at the last moment had decided his honour guard should consist of the Royal Bodyguards and _not_ the infantry and cavalry soldiers the Queen Mother and the Chamberlain had personally selected over the past few weeks. After Helena had finally given in, Robert almost gave her an aneurysm announcing his honour guard would not be wearing the traditional garb, but instead would be dressed entirely in black. This, however, was a battle Robert could not hope to win and eventually they had settled on the black uniform of the Windsor regiment, appeasing both the almost King and his mother.

They had been loaded into six black Rovers soon after and had been driven to Westminster Abbey shortly after noon.

Eleanor had not seen Jasper once.

The Abbey was already full when the Royal family sans Robert made their entrance. Eleanor spotted Ashok and Gemma sitting together and saw Beck with his family near the front row.

'You look radiant as ever,' he whispered as she passed him. She good-naturedly rolled her eyes at him.

Only one throne sat the dais, to their Queen Mother's great disappointment, but had she really expected Robert to bring forth a wife less than a year after his return from the death? Knowing Helena, she probably had, but Eleanor thought this one throne, this sole seat of power, made a much better picture and was more befitting Robert. The lone Sovereign, bearing the weight of his Kingdom on his shoulders.

She didn't envy him.

The people inside, the nobility and politicians, friends and family alike, only added to the abbey's splendour. The pointed arches and stained glass windows enveloped most of the guests in an ethereal sort of light and it was nothing less of what Robert deserved.

 _Finally._

The Royal Church's Choir started their symphony and a shiver went through Eleanor's body. Their voices filled the abbey and _oh God._

She recognized him immediately, first in a long row of ceremonial bodyguards. The uniform looked good on him and the little smug smirk on his face told her he was aware.

As they fanned out, took their spots behind Robert on the dais, their eyes crossed. Her heart fleetingly forgot how to beat.

The Archbishop spun a tale and she was dimply aware that her mother was pressing a handkerchief to her watery eyes. Eleanor couldn't focus, though. Not with him there.

She heard Robert swearing to uphold the law and the Church – she snorted, but dragged her eyes away from Jasper.

'All this I promise to do. The things which I have here before promised, I will perform, and keep. So help me God.'

She clasped hands with her mother, an instinctual thing, surprising the both of them, and felt a lone tear slowly finding its way down her cheek. Because everything was slowly falling into its rightful place. _At long last._

The Archbishop approached Robert, Saint Edward's Crown in his hands, and the entire abbey collectively held its breath.

He slowly, reverently, for _fuck's_ sake, bloody sacrosanct, placed it upon Robert's dark curls.

 _King Robert._

And they all cried in unison three times, 'God save the King. God save the King.'

'God save the _King._ '

The trumpeters sounded a fanfare and the church bells, magnified, echoed all over the Kingdom, started ringing out. The cameras were clicking, flashing, and exuberant shouts came from the crowd outside. The guests inside the abbey clapped and cried out unrestrained. The sound, the atmosphere, gave Eleanor goose bumps. As she looked around, she knew there would never be a better moment. Never a grander gesture. Never a more fitting way to show him she was serious about him. About them.

 _About us._

Robert opened his arms when he saw her getting up. Smiled broadly at her and for some reason she thought he already suspected her chain of thoughts. He spread his arms wide, turned to his guests just as she was about to pass him and she didn't know whether the abbey _exploded,_ detonated – fucking burst apart at the seams – because of him or because of her, but for fuck's sake, she could care less, because _you, me, us_.

There would be hell to pay, she understood and recognized this. But they could deal with that later. Her brother was King. They could overcome anything. Her mother would most likely never forgive her, though, but perhaps this was a sacrifice she could live with.

And as she stood before this man – _her_ man? – and held out her hand, she knew this was the right thing to do.

He looked into her eyes, questioningly, and she saw the uncertainty there. She gave him a small smile. She wished she could feign confidence, could pretend to _know_ what she was doing, but she was just as anxious as he was.

 _The right thing, yes._

And she made an effort to brighten her smile, to convey her conviction. To let him _know._

He simply stared, motionless.

'What the flying fuck is this?!' She heard Helena screech, followed by Liam's laughter.

He was still staring, and really, had he always been this stupid.

Her hand still hovered motionless between them.

She huffed.

'Are you just going to stand there, Jasper, or are you going to take my hand?'

His eyes widened and perhaps he really _was_ stupid.

She could read the word on his lips before he voiced it.

'What?'

She scoffed, feigning irritation out of nervousness, and waved her hand around.

'I choose you. I'm _with_ you.'

She moved her hand impatiently and she saw the ghost of a smile creep upon his face.

'Whatever, Jasper. You know what I mean.'

'I'm not sure I do, Princess.'

And of course he'd be a bloody git about it, while the abbey was about to erupt and Liam was calming their mother down and the press, the _goddamn_ press.

 _What the hell was she doing?!_

He saw her hesitancy, didn't move. Just waited.

He wanted _this,_ wanted her. But only if she wanted it to. If she chose it willingly.

She looked at the imprints of her nails, imbued in his arms. So deep she wondered why last night he hadn't pulled away. But the answer was already in her mind and suddenly the words spilled out.

'I'm sorry,' she said. 'I'm so sorry. For everything. For sending you away all these months ago. For not believing in you. For not believing in _us_. I love you, Jasper. I do. And I trust –'

His lips touched hers chastely, but it was enough to silence her. He looked her in the eye and whatever else she was going to say, she could read clearly there.

His nose brushed against hers softly, but then his lips were on hers again. And it wasn't their best kiss, and it wasn't that long nor deep nor demanding.

But it was _perfect._

And was their even a abbey left?

The cameras were flashing furiously, reporters were shouting, breaking protocol and what not. The crowd's roar was deafening, as would be the aftermath of _this_. Of _them_. They were in so much trouble. No one would spare a thought or a headline for Robert's crowning after this. _No one._

 _Did she care?_ She did not.

And they had indeed become a Shakespearean cliché.

The amative and the aesthetic.

He pulled her closer to his chest and in the name of all that was Holy.

 _I'll gladly be a cliché with you._

xxx

'You two stole my shine,' Robert accused them several days later.

She still didn't care and neither did Jasper.


End file.
